Desert Flower of America
by SoundzofSilence
Summary: Temari is getting desperate. She sets up Gaara and Kankuro with women from all over the world including America. So what happens when the Sabaku brothers find themselves up to their ears in females?
1. Proposals of Marriage

**Proposals of Marriage**

"So why are we here?" Kankurou asked, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, bored.

"I don't know," Gaara answered, not looking up from his behind his mountain of paperwork. Not that he could see Kankurou from behind the stack anyways. Sometimes Gaara swore these papers bred overnight. There only seemed to be more each day.

The office door burst open. Gaara's desk quivered slightly and a few papers flitted to the ground, but the red-head kept working through the disruption.

"Kankurou! Gaara! You need wives!" Temari's loud voice boomed.

Kankurou sighed and Gaara did so more quietly. Ever since Temari married Shikamaru and got pregnant, somehow, the ridiculous notion Kankurou and Gaara needed to marry sprouted in her head. Neither had gotten a decent night's rest with her hounding.

"Haven't we already been through this?" Kankurou moaned, rubbing his temple.

"Finding you two wives isn't exactly EASY! Finding salt in the Akatsuki lair is easier than finding you two willing women to marry!" Their sister raged, red faced. "Because Gaara is Kazekage, he _needs_ a wife."

Said Kazekage wondered why he needed one when he was perfectly fine on his own.

"If Gaara had a wife, she could remind him to get to bed on time, cook, clean, do his laundry, produce kids, help him with paperwork," Temari continued relentlessly.

"That sounds more like a mother's job," Kankurou commented, flinching under the eldest sibling's tenfold anger and intense glare.

"A wife would improve the village's image of Gaara! It would show he has changed! Ever since the Shukaku was extracted two years ago, Gaara has become more and more reclusive. I can barely remember what he looks like!" Temari growled.

"You saw me yesterday," Gaara spoke up, standing.

Temari glowered at him. "That's not the point! Do you want to be remembered as the cowardly Kazekage who hid behind a stack of papers when his stuffed raccoon was stolen?"

The Kazekage stiffened. He was not cowardly!

"Kankurou, fetch me a pimento sandwich with pickles," Temari ordered, pointing to the office door.

Kankurou arched an eyebrow at Gaara. Neither of them knew what the hell pimentos were. Shrugging, the puppet master slouched out of the room.

Without warning, the four-month pregnant woman sunk into the chair before Gaara's desk and began sobbing. The red-head was at a loss of what to do.

"It's so hard trying to settle you two down! I just want to see you two taken care of before I go to Konoha!" Temari wept.

Gaara felt a pang of guilt for his sister. She was trying to help them, complete her last duty as a sister before she moved to Konoha with her husband, Shikamaru. This issue wasn't making matters better for her or the baby.

Gaara soothingly gave Temari's shoulders a tight grip before loosening them to relax her. "Kankurou and I are grown men, Temari. We can take care of ourselves. Though I can't say much for Kankurou."

The kunoichi gave a miserable, half-hearted laugh.

"But I doubt any woman would be able to stand me, Temari. As you said earlier, I am a recluse. I've learned women are prying creatures. Perhaps I was a bachelor in my cradle" Gaara shrugged "but if I were to get enamored with a woman, I wouldn't know what to do and end up driving her off. I'm a lost cause, Temari."

Feeling faintly depressed, Gaara retreated behind the stack of papers, a quarter of which were due in two days.

Temari didn't say anything, but a plan was forming in her head. Perhaps no one from Suna, or the Hidden Villages would fall for Gaara, but what if they had never heard of him? What if they weren't from Japan?

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Gaara carried a towering stack of paperwork outside his door and set it beside his office door for other nin to take.

His lower back ached from the load and his stained bluish-purple hands were cramped. Gaara was in a particularly foul mood because of a developed migraine and lack of sleep. He glared at anything and everything as he swept down the corridors to his room.

Other ninja had enough sense to press their backs against the wall as the angry Kazekage strode past with his ceremonial Kage white and blue robes billowing behind. It wasn't a good sign either that Gaara had the Kage hat on his head, or that he growled quietly as he past.

Gaara's mind felt light with pain and annoyance. He wouldn't hesitate to kill anything in his way. His lip was curled into a sneer and his fists were clenched in his flowing sleeves.

He opened a door and slammed it shut. The room shook slightly and Gaara tossed his hat to his left as he lumbered to bed.

He fell back onto it with an exhausted sigh, closing his aqua marine eyes gratefully.

Twin arms wrapped themselves around his waist and clasped on the other side. A female body pressed close and she cooed. Gaara gritted his teeth and his chest rose and fell with anger.

The female mistook it for desire. "Hello, Kazekage," she said huskily.

"What are you doing in my bed?" Gaara asked coldly, not daring to open his eyes.

"Sleeping with you," replied a pouty, whiny voice.

Gaara hated people who whined. They were disgusting, lazy asses who never got anything done and gave their problems to others. Gaara hated pouts even more. Pouting was a way to get what the brat wanted at the moment. Pouting was a low, disgusting trick.

"I will sleep alone," Gaara said through tightly clenched teeth. His breathing was ragged with the battle of self restraint and the urge to kill this wench.

The female body heaved itself half way onto him so Gaara could feel her soft breasts pressed against his hard chest. The arms wrapped around his waist traveled up to his shoulders. "But I was just warming the bed for you, Kazekage!"

More pouting, more whining. Gaara growled. He couldn't take much more.

One hand caressed the side of his face and Gaara snapped.

Even without the Shukaku, his mother's curse enabled him to control sand. The plug to his gourd fell and sand hissed as it began to spill out onto the floor, racing toward the bed. The sand pried the female from his body. Her fingers grasping desperately on his robes slipped.

"Sabaku Kyū!" _Desert Coffin!_

The female began screaming.

"Sabaku Sōsō!" _Desert Funeral!_

Gaara sighed as silence pervaded the room.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

"YOU _KILLED_ HER!"

"She intruded in my room, Temari."

"_WHY_ DID YOU KILL HER?"

"I hadn't sleep for two nights."

"THAT'S _YOUR_ FAULT!" Temari roared.

Luckily for Temari, Gaara was still suffering from lack of being roused from a day and a half of sleep. As it was, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

This had been happening for two months. Temari would take young women who admired Gaara (cough prostitutes cough) into his room where they would wait until the unfortunate Kazekage happened to enter.

Now six months pregnant, Temari was always crabby. Although Gaara wasn't particularly fond of Shikamaru, he considered pregnancy a suitable revenge for the lazy Jounin. Having a child meant the indolent ninja had to do more than blink and sigh.

"Hey, Gaara-" Kankuro said, head poking through the office door, "kuso, the whale!" His purple-painted face quickly disappeared and the door slammed.

"_WHALE!_" Temari screeched, whirling around. Said 'whale' ran toward the door, which burst into infinite little splinters when she rammed through it. Gaara's head dropped back down to his troublesome paperwork as Temari's bellows shushed into golden silence as she chas- _hunted_ Kankuro.

_Why do these things happen on my watch? _He wondered, signing his name in several places. _Why do I need a wife?_

He placed the paper on a growing stack of signed ones beside his desk.

_A wife is nothing more than a female friend with whom you have unbearable sexual tension that lives with you until you die. I'm better off on my own._

Gaara decided protecting and watching the village was more important than doting on a single person of the opposite sex. Hundreds of lives were more significant than one.

Gaara needed to ask someone why one person was unique to many.

But who to ask?

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P (**Kanji and Youtube Tutoring**)

"Baki?"

The instructor of the dead, last Kazekage's children stood and bowed. "Kazekage-sama."

Gaara ignored the ceremonial greeting. "Baki, why does someone who is in love with another defend the one instead of millions?"

Baki appeared taken off guard by the strange question falling off his leader's lips. He frowned, "It is difficult to explain, Kazekage."

"Try please."

The half of Baki's face that wasn't veiled contorted with concentration. "When a man loves a woman, the woman becomes more important than the man in his eyes. She is the world to him and he is her world. Intimacy –or love- is a powerful thing, Gaara. They become absorbed in one another, blind to anything but the partner whom they would die to protect from harm. Without the other, the world or dream ends for them and nothing gives them hope."

The leader of the sand village nodded. "Arigatou, Baki."

The Kazekage strode back to his backed paperwork and gave a long sigh as he noted the overflowing load on his desk had increased. Stupid breeding papers. Damn them.

"Gaa- I mean, Kaaazzeekaage," squealed the shrill voice of his female assistant on the little intercom. He stared at the device and pressed the button. "Yes?"

"There's another _girl_ for registration. She claims she wants to live here for a few months." His assistant sounded terribly jealous.

"Send her into my office," he answered in an irritated tone, scrawling his name on an official-looking document. Hell, they all looked official. Gaara ran a hand through his soft red hair in frustration as his aqua marine eyes skimmed over a page.

There was a shy knock at the door and he growled permission to enter. The door opened and closed soundlessly. Gaara kept hunched over a reasonable stack, one hand signing his life away as the other supported his head, fingers tangled in his hair.

Silence.

"Kazekage-sama?" asked the softest, whispery, shy female voice he had ever heard.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah stood in the hall, having past the guards in the front with a little difficulty. She sighed. From now on she would never accept Internet bribes.

These strange people in ninja clothing had shown up at her front door, abducted her, and spirited her away to a secret part of Japan. They had hourglasses on their headbands, wearing sandy colors and Hannah saw why when they arrived- camouflage for a desert.

Being a genius, Hannah estimated they were Sand ninja from some hidden community. Her guess wasn't far from the truth.

Now Hannah was standing in some tower with a strange sign painted on it.

Her head swiveled around as she was about to ask where the lobby was when a rude, feminine voice called out, "Looking for something, Ma'am? The Kazekage is not available." Her facial expression read 'you don't belong here; shoo.'

The girl had black hair and mossy eyes. Her blue bubble gum snapped. The dark eyes narrowed as her finger tapped the desk impatiently. The name plate said Rin.

"Rin, I'm here to see the unavailable Kazekage. I need some citizen registration forms," Hannah told the assistant politely, plastering a fake smile on her face.

Rin's eyes darkened when Hannah mentioned 'I' and 'Kazekage' in the same sentence. The foreigner could tell Rin was a fangirl.

"Ah, yes," she practically hissed, scowling. "I'll inform him." Rin's green fingernail pressed down on a button. "Gaa- I mean, Kaaazzeekaage." Her voice was sweet as honey as her look was venomous to Hannah.

"Yes?" The voice that crackled from the intercom sounded irritated.

"There's another _girl_ for registration. She claims she wants to live here for a few months." Rin was trying to make the American sound like a nuisance as she dreamily spun a lock of her hair around a finger.

"Send her into my office."

"Yes, Kazekage-sama." Rin was all venom. "Down that hall. Left and last door on your right," Rin growled, practically tearing a magazine in half with fangirl jealousy. Hannah said nothing, turning her back on the rude snob. Were all fangirls like that?

Hannah paused in front of the door and hesitated, having a timid attack. Holding her breath, she rapped her knuckles on the wood and a growl answered. Hannah slid through the doorway, shutting the door as silently as possible.

For a moment she stared at an impossible breeding ground of papers. Even in America Hannah had never seen such a marvel. There was a grunt and a stack of papers was moved beside the desk by sand.

There was Gaara. His description matched like the Internet, actually his sibling, had said: flaming spiky red hair, black rings around stunning aqua marine eyes, pale complexion. The Kazekage loomed over his work as if to intimidate it, one hand scribbling while the other held up his head, fingers clenching and unclenching his blazing reddish-brown hair.

Maybe this wasn't a good time… "Kazekage-sama?" Hannah asked, trying not to disturb him and attempting to be civil.

His face lifted. Hannah's timid attack overwhelmed her and her green-gray eyes glued to the floor. "You want to become a citizen in Suna? Temporarily or permanently?" he asked. The poor guy sounded horribly bored out of his mind.

"T-temporarily," Hannah whispered, face red, "For f-five months."

The American glanced up to see Gaara lean over, open a drawer, select a thin packet, and hold out the paperwork. "Just fill this out." As Hannah took several steps to cross the room, for she had been hanging by the door, the Kazekage asked, "What's your name?"

Hannah's hand froze as they had been about to snatch the papers. Their eyes met. Blue clashed green-gray. Her eyes darted away. "Hannah," she said as softly as her voice would permit.

Gaara said nothing, shifting back to his own mound of paper. Hannah sat on the floor, hunching over and filled out the form. She didn't mind being on the floor. Hannah, being paranoid and having lived in a country full of parasites, cautiously replied to the packet, hoping no creeps showed up at her front door.

"Hannah?"

"Yes, Kazekage-sama?" She sat up.

The leader of Suna blinked in surprise as Hannah's head seemingly popped out of nowhere. Hannah bent back over her work as silence reigned. Finally done, she hoisted herself into a standing position and held out the papers mutely.

Gaara silently accepted them, aqua marine eyes sweeping over it. His non-existent eyebrows rose several times and he massaged the bridge of his nose. "What village are you from?" he frowned.

"I'm not really from any village," Hannah muttered, but he heard.

With that, Hannah pivoted and began striding towards the door. She opened it and started badly when she saw she almost shut the door on the Kazekage. Embarrassed, the new citizen of Suna kept her face downcast and began taking long strides.

Unfortunately, Gaara seemed equally enthused to escape his office and managed to stay by her side. Neither paid attention to the other, seeking to get away.

When both of them, neck in neck, came marching in the lobby, Rin sent Hannah a look that could have turned Medusa into stone.

They burst through the double doors. Outside, the pair stopped before the doors. Hannah laughed as Gaara gave her an impassive expression. They were both so competitive and hated to lose, it was funny!

Blushing, Hannah shouldered her backpack and heaved a large suitcase with a smile and gave the Kazekage a wave, "Ja ne, Kazekage-sama!"

He nodded coolly. "Oyasuminasai, Hannah-san." He walked away.

"What did he say?" Hannah asked one of the shinobi who had kidnapped her.

"Good night."

"Oh, arigatou."

"I see you know 'thank you', and a little Japanese. Where did you learn it?"

Hannah didn't want to say she'd learned it from Youtube.

* * *

Oyasuminasai- good night 

Arigatou- thank you

Arigatou gozaimasu- thank you (polite)

Ja ne- see you later

Kuso- shit


	2. Slums and Yuri 'Goodness'

The American glanced down at the metal plate etched with the number three on a birch door. The hallway was drab and uniform. The walls were grey, lighting dim, and carpet dull. If Hannah didn't know any better, she'd say she was in the ghetto.

She unlocked the door and her green-grey eyes swept the room.

Just in time, Hannah remembered to remove her tennis shoes by the door as it swung closed. There was an archway with a light bulb above her head. The American strode down the mini hallway, which led to an open area.

A small kitchen-dining room to her left and two doors to her right, Hannah dropped her things with a relieved sigh. Before the American was a beat up couch and old television set on a stand. The walls were white, cracked dry wall showed, lights needing repairing, everything was sorely under-technologically developed.

_Why did I ever leave America?_ Hannah wondered, dragging her backpack and suitcase into a bedroom. The bedroom was amazing. The burgundy walls beautifully reflected the gold trimming and royal purple carpeting. Light streamed through two large porthole-like windows.

The bed was plump with inviting silk, deep purple plush pillows and a maroon bedspread. Around the entire bed was a veil of filmy wine-colored cloth that was tied back by thick gold braids.

An ancient Mac sat in a lonely corner on an old rickety desk. Hannah smiled. At least she wasn't isolated from the world.

Starting back into the kitchen-dining room, Hannah frowned at the shabby living room and resolved to repair the place. Bring it up to date American style.

Hannah went to inspect the bathroom and was met with another not-so-pleasant sight. Everything was covered in a layer of…something. The sink, tub, and toilet were cracked; the light didn't operate, and the mirror was surviving by prayer alone.

Upon discovering nothing in the eating area of her new living quarters, Hannah decided to unpack before anything else. After everything was unpacked, there was no stalling.

The American took out her money the shinobi had given her. Two hundred dollars.

Hannah began to plan.

Unfortunately, her scheming was interrupted by her loud stomach whining.

Hannah considered a visit to the grocery store, but paused. There were no grocery stores, only market places around here. She sucked on her teeth. Where the hell _was_ the market place?

The American dressed in sandy brown corduroy pants and a loose fitting white tee that said 'Who are you and why are you reading my shirt?' The look was topped off with white sneakers.

Hannah locked the apartment door, noting the lock needed replacing, and left the building. She wandered far and near the Kazekage tower, and decided to follow a group of people that passed by. The problem was there was no one to follow. It had been roughly two hours since she had left the apartment.

Wiping gathering sweat on her brow, Hannah saw a woman in robe-like clothing coming from a street with a bag of condiments. The female trusted her gut instinct –and stomach- and went the opposite way people with food were coming from.

This landed Hannah in the market square.

People streamed past the American in all directions. It was like congested traffic. Keeping one hand firmly on her money, Hannah made her way to the crowded food venders.

The American's stomach was ecstatic to see rows of food, all neatly filed- fruits, veggies, dry foods. She bought what she needed, which was expensive, and turned to leave but bumped into a tall guy.

"Sorry," Hannah murmured, keeping her face ducked.

The man made no complaint. Pausing at a less hoarded vender, Hannah asked the old man, "Why are the prices about as high as the Kazekage tower?"

He smiled, amused by her simile. "Prices are about as high as the Kazekage tower because a great majority of our food is imported. Greenery can't be grown in the desert."

"Then why are there desert flowers?" Hannah asked slyly, but it made sense. It would go against all laws of physics and nature if an apple orchard sprung up in the middle of a desert. Now to find the apartment…

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah polished off a tomato in her kitchen back at the apartment. On the poor table was all that was left from her shopping excursion- five bucks. In America, although prices were high, Suna's prices bordered insane.

The teen sighed. She should have been more prepared. Now she would have to get a job.

The American wondered what jobs she could find in the desert. She was a fine artist, writer, dancer, technician, and computer nerd- if that counted.

Roaming town, dusk was setting. Hannah didn't mind. America had transformed her into a nocturnal creature. Falling into a fast pace, she scoured the streets and found a paint shop. Hannah pinched the five dollars in her pocket and entered.

"Hello?" she asked bravely loud. Despite it was a paint shop, one would never be able to tell. Everything was _gray_ and _colorless_. Two ceiling fans circulated cool air. A drying bill board on the counter caught her attention- _help wanted_.

An old woman with a face that could curdle milk appeared. Hannah managed a straight face and said boldly, "I would like to apply for the job offer." She pointed to the drying sign.

The woman eyed her coldly and Hannah felt her cheeks flame. "My name is Yuri, the manager. Your minimal pay will be three dollars unless I see fit to give you a raise," Yuri instructed. Hannah felt her spirits sinking with each word. "Fill out this paper for how long you would like to work here."

Hannah scribbled down a number, all the while studying her new boss.

The woman had pale blue hair resembling cotton candy, ice-fire purple eyes, and the faded purple robe hid her body. Protecting her forehead was a bandana with a metal plate engraved with an hourglass- the symbol of Suna. Far as personality went, Hannah could only guess something had happened to the old woman's family or life to make her bitter. Her old boss was jealous of Hannah's youth.

"What's my first task?" The employee blew out in a prepared breath.

Yuri grabbed the large board. "Mop the floor, shine the windows, and paint the walls. No cute, girly images." Well that was not difficult. Hannah wasn't much of a girly-girl anyway.

"Dasai," Yuri muttered under her breath as her freshest employee mopped the floor. "That is moping? I want you on your hands and knees with a scrub! Haiyaku!"

Hannah knew her boss had called her pathetic and barked to hurry. Humiliated, the proud American scoured the floor until her fingers blistered. The next odious task was to wax the surface, which Hannah did, including her pants.

As the floor dried, she painted two walls white before washing and polishing the counter. Being a natural busy bee that put her heart into work, Hannah was inwardly relieved when her taskmaster was satisfied- barely.

"What are you standing around for, gariben?! Paint the ceiling too!" barked Yuri, causing her slave to jump three feet into the air.

Hannah pursed her lips and covered everything with newspaper. Wearing a large apron, she grabbed a brush and began to paint. "Done," she sighed after two hours, a back sore, and neck ache later. Yuri 'accidentally' bumped into the ladder, triggering the white paint to spill- bucket and all- on her.

Hannah was near tears when she removed the tin can from her head without a word. "Look at the mess you have made!" scolded the ruthless slave master. "It is a good thing you had enough sense to cover my floor and counter!"

The American swallowed the lump in her throat as Yuri stomped off, leaving her to gather the newspaper, empty paint bucket, and clean the spilled paint.

This was so _not_ worth three bucks an hour.

* * *

Dasai- (adj) pathetic

Haiyaku- hurry

Gariben- one who studies too much


	3. A Grain in the Sandstorm

Hannah flopped onto her bed in her pajamas. It was near noon and she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep because of her crazy manager. She closed her eyes, lulling, when a knock at the door jolted her back into the cruel, cruel world.

Hannah slouched over and creaked open the door. A thin man with intense, small piggy eyes wearing shabby clothing stood there, wringing his hands. "The rent," the weasel named Arnol wheezed, holding out an eager hand.

"How much?" yawned the sore, fatigued girl.

"Ten dollars. Five for yesterday and another for today."

She practically threw him the money and slammed the door. If any other idiot disturbed her, they would pay dearly. Ten hours of grueling work for thirty bucks… She slid to the floor, sagging on the door, mercifully closing her eyes.

Knock, knock.

Glaring, Hannah threw open the door and snarled, "I already paid you!"

A surprised, pregnant girl with four yellow ponytails blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Never mind," growled Hannah, struggling with her murderous aura.

"You have competition. There are other village girls and twenty others coming from around the world." Temari came in and crossed her legs as she gingerly sat on the beat up velvety couch. "They will be arriving in another month. Business is keeping them. This gives you the advantage to-"

"Can't this wait until morning?" groaned Hannah.

"It's the afternoon, you fool," snapped Temari, going through a mood swing. "The time limit ends two months after I give birth. That's _five_ whole months. I mean, seven."

"Love doesn't happen that fast, Temari-san," sighed the shut-eyed girl. Even mentally and physically drained, she could be annoyingly philosophical. "By the way, you shouldn't be traveling around as much. The baby might throw your back out."

As if feeling the pain, Temari's hands went to her back and she grimaced. "I'll keep that in mind, but-" she began to sob "you don't have to be so rude about it!"

Hannah patted the pregnant female's shoulder and whispered consolingly, "Don't worry, Temari-san. If it is your wish, go home, drink plenty of water, and rest. This will help you and the baby."

"How do you know so much about being pregnant?" Temari roared, leaping to her feet.

Hannah, wide awake, eyed the ninja's fists. "I read to prepare myself. Now go home and rest. I'm sure the baby is very heavy."

A dazed expression spread over Temari's features. "Yeah." Her hands floated to her rotound belly. "He is kinda heavy…" The sister of Gaara dazedly wandered out her door and down the hall. Hannah sighed with relief and locked the door.

Temari had scared the sleep out of her. Hannah dragged the couch against the wall adjacent to the television and left for power tools. Taping newspapers to the ground, the American began to smash the dry wall with her fists and feet.

It was the most fun she'd experienced destroying something.

Hannah smashed invisible dry wall bosses and ripped them viciously from their lodgings. She smiled, covered in a thin layer of white dust, collarbone length auburn hair in a ponytail with her bangs free.

On her Spongebob boombox 'Get This Party Started' by Pink played as a sandstorm raged outside. Hannah drilled in the new dry wall for the wall and saggy ceiling. She mouthed the words as she filled in the gaps with white gunk and sanded it down.

Concurrently the sanded gunk hardened, leaving Hannah to work her magic on the bathroom. She set a box under the mirror and punched the reflective circle. It shattered, leaving shards in her hand. Hannah picked out the slivers, deciding that wasn't such a genius move.

Bandaging her hand, Hannah replaced the mirror with a bigger, circular one with a painted flower in the top left corner. She tore up the tile and replaced it with mosaic glass pieces, melting the edges together with a torch.

Next she melted a layer of glass on top to protect her work. The plumber arrived at four and replaced the sink, toilet, and tub with a shower stall.

Promising she would pay him if he came back every three days, Hannah paid him the left over ten dollars. For the next month, Hannah remodeled her room, half starving herself.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Gaara allowed himself to be dragged around by Temari today. The brothers trailed after her grumpily, ignoring their sister's chatter about spending time together as a family before she left for Konoha.

They spoke with citizens, their simple conversations ranging all over. Gaara spotted an auburn-haired female with her hair pinned in a messy ponytail, wearing paint spattered overalls. She seemed familiar…one of the newer citizens…

"Hannah!" Temari called. The girl had a ladder on her shoulder. She turned to identify the source of the voice, causing the ladder to knock over a shinobi. Hannah heard the ladder impact and whirled around.

"Gomen nasai!" apologized the flustered non-Japanese girl.

Gaara, Kankuro, and Temari ducked as the long weapon whistled over their heads. "Hey! Watch it!" Kankuro shouted.

The siblings ducked as one when the ladder came again, felling another shinobi. This time Hannah's red face rotated and called, "Oops, gomen nasai! Ah! G-gomen!"

Wordlessly, she hurried off with her face hidden by the ladder. _The clumsy girl must be mortified_, reflected Gaara, judging her quick jog and rushed demeanor.

"Geez, what was with that girl?" Kankuro muttered, staring off as Hannah's ladder disappeared.

"She's one of the newer citizens. Very timid and closed off, but dedicated to her work," Temari said, being well informed.

"And cute if she wasn't wearing those baggy overalls," Kankuro threw in, grinning wolfishly. "She is one nice chick."

"She's okay," Gaara told them indifferently. The girl was a klutz, and withdrawn like the Hyugga girl- nothing too special. A little boy and girl holding their mother's hand waved to him enthusiastically and he responded with a small wave. They smiled and began tugging their mother's arms.

The Kazekage was adjusting to the small greetings. The villagers accepting and respecting him was a breather. The females, however, were not. He noticed more than one single female's eyes on him. He was the Kazekage, a princely figure, a trophy.

"Gaara-sama!" Said owner of the name resisted cringing at the pitch of his assistant's voice. Rin seemed to relish saying his name like a good taste. Her black hair bounced wildly in the wind and her jade eyes gleamed.

"Hn?"

"The computer broke again," Rin pouted, twining a strand of black hair around a finger.

A passing young man paused. "Hannah updated the library computers. They have Internet access. She showed me where to position the satellite dish, Kazekage-sama."

Rin opened her mouth but another tall male –burly and brawn, head and shoulders above everyone nearby- interrupted her. "Actually, Hannah-chan is my top technician. She works two jobs around the clock. Never saw a more dedicated or diligent worker who spreads herself like butter."

"Send Hannah over immediately on her shift," the Kazekage ordered. The shinobi, Ralph, nodded once and continued loping to who knows where. Rin's tan face flushed darkly and her manicured nails bit into her palms. Kankuro watched the envious assistant stalk off toward the tower.

Kankuro spoke up, "Hannah seems popular. She is familiar with technology which is a bit suspicious considering technology is rather new and only a genius can fix it. I'll send some nin to scope this mysterious girl out."

Temari's lips quirked, "Someone that well-liked should be greeted by the Kazekage or the villagers will suspect you are jealous, Gaara."

"I am not jealous of a klutz," the offended brother retorted, retreating to the Kazekage tower. "Kankuro, come with me." The puppet master gave a quiet exhale of relief. Temari glared at their backs.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

"Hannah-san, you are to fix the computer in the Kazekage tower."

Ralph was a big man with hair mowed akin to grass. He had a square jaw, kind eyes, a nose slightly crooked from breaking it in his childhood, and a muscular body. Ralph wore tight muscle shirts and black army pants with brown boots- the classic G.I. Joe.

His headband was tied on his forearm because there was no where for it to be adorned. The huge man smiled down at his tired, top technician and patted her small head with his large hand. "You have tomorrow off as a token of my gratitude," he grinned.

Hannah flushed modesty, her eyes widening in horror at the prospect. "Oh no, sir, I couldn't-"

"My workers are no good to me half dead," her second boss pointed out. Hannah bit her lip and fell silent, eyes falling to the floor. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Even after half a month, she was shy and reclusive around her second employer.

"What is our motto?" Ralph barked.

" 'When life gives you lemonade, make grape juice, then sit back and watch as the world ponders how you did it?' " Hannah tried. He gave her a playful reproachful look, causing Hannah to giggle and recite- "The customer is always right."

"That's my girl," Ralph said, fondly patting her head. Hannah's hair was soft.

Hannah hoisted a fire engine red tool box onto her shoulders and began the trek to the Kazekage's. Temari was angry with her. Or more specifically, her inactivity. Hannah hadn't even been trying to wrap Gaara around her finger, for that reason the female was upset.

Hannah had seen her competitors. They had arrived recently. All were beautiful, gorgeous, intelligent, and sophisticated as the feminine breed came and the American lost all hope. She was leagues behind these models. Hannah knew, deep down, she stood no chance.

Instead, Hannah was working toward a different goal- recognition among Suna. Already, she was known for her technician and artistic skills, hard work, and pleasant manner. It was enough for Hannah. She felt vaguely bitter about being outdone by the other twenty females, but she accepted it. Hannah knew she had lost and that was that.

She plastered a customary smile on her face, saying "Hello" to people who greeted or nodded in respect at her. It seemed like the Kazekage tower had materialized out of nowhere.

It took little time to enter the lobby and find the blocked off computer. Immediately Hannah set to work, inspecting the wires. "Konnichiwa, Hannah." Said Hannah jumped, dropping her screwdriver.

She flashed the Kazekage a smile. "Konnichiwa, Kazekage-sama!" Hannah pressed the power button, hauling herself into the office chair. The ring lit red and the technician poked the monitor button, igniting another red light.

After ten minutes of mouse clicking and silence, Gaara asked, "What is wrong with the computer?"

"You're assistant overloaded the system with a virus or two. Her pictures are wasting necessary memory space, too," Hannah muttered.

"Delete the pictures."

"Yes, Kazekage-sama." Hannah felt no small amount of satisfaction as Rin's pictures were flushed into cyberspace, never to be seen again. Within half an hour, Hannah eradicated the fifteen viruses with the leader of Suna gazing over her shoulder.

"Thank you," the Kazekage said, face emotionless.

"'Praise is no substitute for achievement'," quoted Hannah from a children's book, picking up her various tools.

"Is there any advice you would have for me?"

Hannah turned her head to see if he was serious. Gaara seemed earnest, especially in the blue and white Kage robes. She flushed at the attention and, from the same book, quoted shyly, "'Be open to changes.'"

He was silent, observing her as she locked the bright box. "'Don't work for other people when you can work for yourself,'" he recited.

_Is he challenging me?_ Hannah shrugged. "'Fake it till you make it.'"

"'Don't count your chickens before they hatch.'"

"'There's no voice on the outside that can tell you more than the voice on the inside.'"

"'There's more to you than the job you do,'" Gaara parried quietly.

Hannah soaked in the truth of his words, feelig a heavy blow from that quote. "'When you do what you have to do, it helps other people do what they have to do.'"

The pair stared at one another, each one's face masked by no emotion. Her eyes gleamed mischievously as if daring him to contradict her, while his glowed with curiosity and grudging admiration. This and more were noticed by them as a staring contest ensued.

Gaara held out one of his arms, hand covered by the robes. Confused, Hannah thought it was a fighting stance and mimicked him. The Kazekage scowled, "Close your eyes." She did and felt something pressed into her hand. "Itterasshai, Hannah."

_Take care, he said_. She opened her green-grey eyes and saw no one was there, yet felt the eerie sensation of being watched. Doing a three-sixty glance, she saw nothing and opened her hand. There was a wad of bills in her palm.

Hannah sucked in her breath, biting her bottom lip in astonishment. He shouldn't be so generous with her! It struck her why the Kazekage had ordered her to close her eyes. _Diabolic bastard._ Hannah felt a grudging respect for Gaara. Even if, against all circumstances or her hopes, Hannah became friends with Gaara, the Kazekage would be slow to trust, reluctant to voice his thoughts, naturally reserved and wary. But so would Hannah.

She sighed. Inside her apartment, surrounded by luxury, eating three meals –or more, if she was hungrier- Hannah was not happy. It was like a cage. So she spent her time outside the cage as often as she could spare.

It was lonely.

Hannah stopped outside the tower and stared into the sky. Another sandstorm was coming…

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own 'Get the Party Started' by Pink 

Gomen nasai- sorry

Konnichiwa- hello

Itterasshai- take care


	4. The Hunters, the Pervert, and the Feud

Gaara gave a weary sigh and buried his face in his palms. "I can't believe I'm related by blood to you two," he told them in the restraunt.

"Gaara!" both of them exclaimed indignantly.

The youngest brother simply buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"I'm not that bad!" Temari protested, causing Kankuro to glare and exclaim, "Hey!"

Gaara said nothing, rubbing his eyes. They burned and imaginary paperwork swam before his aqua marine eyes. Rubbing his temples, the young Kazekage murmured something about 'home' and 'rest'. His siblings did not follow him from the restaraunt- something Gaara was grateful for.

Immediately, a girl with wavy black hair, brown doe eyes, tan skin, poofy lips, too much cosmetics, and a scanty outfit planted herself in his path. "Hola, Gaara. Cómo estás?" Not all people of her race dressed like this, the Kazekage knew, but women determined for a man did.

First off, Gaara didn't know the first thing about what in hell she was saying other than his name. Second, she appeared to be awaiting a reply. He gave her a nod. The girl was sent into a fit of demented giggling and puckering her lips.

Was she choking? Did she need the Heimlich maneuver?

Out of the corner of his eyes, Gaara suddenly realized he was surrounded by females and there were no citizens in the streets. Warm wind caressed his cheek. A sandstorm was coming. The Kazekage looked at all the wickedly gleaming eyes of the women.

There were so many…Were did they all come from? Probably hell.

Gaara did something he never did unless in a hurry. He ran- with a concerned expression on his face. Somehow, Gaara had to prevent all the women and himself from getting caught in the sand storm.

The Kazekage hurtled down the streets, using his ninja speed. Unfortunately, some of the newcomers were fast or trained. Gaara dodged a smoke screen that blasted in his path, leaving him disoriented for a moment.

A net enmeshed him from behind and Gaara fell with a grunt. Immediately, the females swarmed upon him. They screeched in dismay upon discovering it was a sand clone. One of the females pointed at a roof and shrieked shrilly, "Up there!"

The Kazekage took off and soon it became a roof-top pursuit. Luckily for Gaara, as obstacles were thrown into his path in made attempts to capture him other weapons were thrown to block those obstacles. Every female wanted the credit of catching him herself. Gaara made good time as the rabid women attacked each other, pursued him, while struggling to detain him.

The hunted Kazekage hopped off the building. The sandstorm was closing in on the village- fast. His only hope for saving the Gaara-hungry females was to lure them into a building and hide out in another. Although he wouldn't mind leaving them in the storm…

No. However tempting that would be, Gaara had a responsibility as Kazekage to keep _everyone_ safe. The youngest brother leapt from a building and dashed into the Shifting Sands. His siblings were astonished to see him back so soon. The crowd of citizens was alarmed to see their leader's desperate, trapped expression. "I'll explain later. Don't let any one out of this building until the storm passes," he announced, producing a sand clone and exiting the building through the kitchen.

The winds had picked up and miniature cyclones of sand were forming and dissolving on the abandoned streets. Gaara forced his chakra into his feet to keep from flying away. He squinted as he saw a form push off from a building and ram into another as the wind threatened to pick the humanoid form up.

The Kazekage, resolved to protect his village, caught the figure as it skidded away, loosing its hold. He held onto the citizen –he hoped- in a death grip and froze. His hands queried warily. Savior and victim stiffened.

Gaara hoped the figure was male with a flabby chest. "_Excuse me?" _demanded an angry female voice. The youngest Sabako had few incidents when he was speechless. This ranked above Lee nearly beating him in the Chunin Exams.

"Oops." Gaara mentally smacked himself. _What an intelligent response_.

"May I have my chest back?" hissed the auburn haired female. What was her name? Hinata? Hime? Haya? Hai? Hannah.

He moved away from her faster than if Hannah had transformed into Rock Lee and offered him spandex. For the first time, Gaara discerned Hannah's head reached his shoulder as her accusing green-grey eyes glared up at him.

"Trying to get yourself killed?" he asked, arching a nonexistent eyebrow.

"Yes, I was," Hannah snapped dryly. "But I'd prefer to die back at my apartment!"

The storm was getting worse. They needed to get inside. "Where is it?"

"Around this corner and down the street," she shouted over the wind. "Second apartment from the last. It says Sand Monkeys on the sign." Sand Monkeys. What a name.

Gaara grabbed Hannah and shoved her face into his shoulder, leaping around the corner and exposing them to the elements. The wind carried his momentum farther than the Kazekage would have liked. Visibility was near nil. Gaara patiently walked down the street with his chakra stringing his feet to the ground, his back braced against the furious onslaught of sand and air. The Kazekage stopped when a thought occurred to him.

Hannah weighed practically nothing to him. She had the weight of a child. Gaara wondered if she starved herself to stay thin. It angered him. Women shouldn't have to take such drastic measures for beauty. He would have to lecture Hannah later.

If there was a later.

The Kazekage shouldered his way forward until his arm was lanced by a jagged wooden point. His head went down and he squinted, seeing Sand Monkeys written in crude lettering. He carried Hannah inside, ignoring the pain in his left arm, and set her down in the lobby.

She seemed ticked.

A hand shot out and latched his wrist. His arm was around her shoulder in amazing time. Gaara had little time to be astonished as his world turned upside down in a smear of color. He found himself on his back, staring in a daze at Hannah's calm, flushed face.

"Whoops," she told him, glaring.

Gaara no Sabaku was shocked that someone –much less a woman- had him on the floor and had the audacity to not only glare at him, but not even apologize. All he could think was: _ow. _His ego suffered a catastrophic blow.

The insulted Kazekage sat up and trailed after Hannah. He shot her an annoyed glance. "What was that for?" he inquired with a hint of a growl in his voice.

"For groping my breasts, you pervert!" Hannah whispered angrily, returning his fierce expression. She sped up but Gaara caught up easily. "Why are you stalking me?" she asked.

"I have no one else to follow."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Hannah made a strangled, irritated noise and hunched her shoulders. Arnol materialized on her left side. "I see you found love in our Kazekage-sama," he smirked.

"Unless sadism has become a form of love," Hannah shot at him.

"You two will fall in love," he assured them.

"Arnol, please don't curse me," Hannah moaned. "I have enough issues already."

"I see your 'pleasant demeanor' is a façade," Gaara said dryly as they stopped before a recently painted white door.

"_Please_, Kazekage-sama, I don't anyone to get the wrong impression or hopeful," Hannah snorted, unlocking her door. They entered darkness until his hostess flicked a light switch. Gaara watched Hannah remove her shoes by the door- as was polite Japanese custom.

Seeing his stare, Hannah kept her face, blushing, averted. "I like walking barefoot," she explained, wiggling her multicolored toenails. The Kazekage deemed it civil to remove his own shoes.

Hannah strode confidently into the dim- and stubbed her toe. Stifling an "ow", she pressed a button and a tambourine began to play alongside an invisible orchestra.

"_Oh I come from a land, from a faraway place where the caravan camels roam. Where it's flat and immense and the heat is intense; It's barbaric, but hey, it's home. When the wind's from the east and the sun's from the west, and the sand in the glass is right, come on down, stop on by; hop a carpet and fly to another Arabian niiiigghht._

Gaara shuffled forward until the small hallway ended. The music was closer.

"_Arabian nights like Arabian days, more often than not are hotter than hot in a lot of good ways. Arabian nights 'neath Arabian moons, a fool off his guard could fall and fall hard out there on the duuunneesss."_

The Kazekage found the catchy Arabian music rather appropriate for his homeland, Suna. Gaara, however, did not expect the male singer to say, "_Ah. Salam and good evening, my worthy friend. Please, please come closer." _

"Who is that?" Gaara asked, tense, attempting and failing to pierce the gloom.

Hannah gave a laugh. "That's a sound track from one of my favorite children's movies, _Aladdin_. The other is _Beauty and the Beast_. I take it you've never heard a recording before."

Gaara stayed silent, feeling like a fool. A curious fool. Hannah turned on the other lights as the Kazekage listened to 'Friend Like Me' from _Aladdin_. Gaara was stunned.

Hannah's apartment was nothing short of creative extraordinaire. Her ceiling transitioned from day to night. The walls changed from desert, forest, swamp, beach, and back to desert. Her kitchen had multi-sized polka dots littering everywhere. One kitchen wall said 'Twister'.

The floor was carpeted and several assortments of furniture were placed in her living room. It was…wow, all of it. Gaara had trouble breathing. His breath might desecrate the gigantic master piece surrounding him.

"You can take the bed, Kazekage-sama." The red haired boy saw Hannah smiling in a way that read 'you know you like it'. "Especially for your latest move and my apology."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb! You honked-" She coughed and couldn't look at him. Her hands gestured around her chest region.

It was Gaara's turn to blush. Only a faint pink. "I didn't honk your-" He stopped.

"Yes you-" Hannah was so flustered she didn't make it to honk. "did," she finished lamely.

The Kazekage summoned his dignity and cleared his throat. "I wouldn't have grabbed-" He made a vague gesture at her "if I hadn't thought you were someone in trouble."

"I was doing _fine_ without your so called 'help', Kazekage-_sama_," She scowled, wielding his name like a dagger. Damn her.

"Then don't expect me to save your butt," Gaara snarled. But for the record he would. It had been so long since someone had oppose him, Gaara could only remember Naruto being the only other.

"I don't," Hannah returned coolly, turning around dismissively.

Gaara swallowed the urge to retort, listening to the soothing music that seemed omnipresent but came from speakers.

"_Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold._

"_Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress._

"_The prince tried to apologize, it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there._

"_Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window into the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose which would bloom until his twenty-first year._

"_If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. In not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years past, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever love a beast?"_

Gaara felt humbled- slightly. It was like his life. He forced his fingers not to trace the Kanji (love) sign he had tattooed on his forehead. The Kazekage choked down his memories and wandered into the bathroom.

The floor was strewn with colored glass covered by a later of thick glass. The walls were gentle pastel colors that made the light yellow sink and toilet stand out. Stacked on one another, cramped by the shower stall, were the washer and dryer.

"Dinner!"

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah set the cheese pizza on the table. Unfortunately there was no such thing as 'pepperoni' in this country. When she had asked, all she received was blank expressions and blinking.

The American paused to listen. Outside, the sand storm still howled and the clock on the newly installed oven read seven o'clock. The Kazekage would be spending the night at her apartment. Hannah exhaled deeply.

Ever since her…_Incident_ with the red haired boy, Hannah felt warier around him. Yet more comfortable. Wait where the hell did that come from? Was being violated supposed to stimulate desires of being violated again?

She plopped down and grabbed a slice, burning her fingers. As Hannah sucked on her burnt digits, her eyes wandered to the bathroom where her guest stood. Gaara-sama appeared to be appreciating his figure in the mirror, or whatever he was doing.

As Hannah prepared for round two with her edible target, the bathroom light switched off. The hostess glanced up, again defeated by her condiment foe. Gaara came towards the table staring at her with the bizarrest expression on his face.

Curiosity? Sickness? Stomach ache? Head ache?

The red haired guest sat himself on the chair and gazed at the pizza. "What is this?" he asked politely, but Hannah could tell he meant 'What the hell is this junk?'

"Pizza."

"I've never heard of it."

"Really? It's a favorite from my country, along with fries and burgers," Hannah chattered, slurping up a strand of cheese that seemed to stretch forever. "Try it."

Gaara withdrew his burnt fingers. Hannah smiled, a glimmer of evil in her green-grey eyes. "I forgot to mention it's fresh out of the oven," she smirked, ignoring his glare.

The Kazekage sampled the tip of the flat pie-like slice. He could taste the tomato sauce sliding away from the melted cheese and the sticky crust in his mouth. It was delicious. Gaara took another bite. "How do you make this?" he asked, swallowing.

The cook was satisfied. "I'll show you sometime."

They chowed in silence, listening to the raging storm. Hannah lit a candelabra in the middle of the table as the lights winked a few times, turning off all the lights. The American thought, with a groan, what a cheesy romance scene in a movie this would make.

Hannah burst out laughing at her unintended pun. _Cheese pizza and cheesy. Wow._

Gaara seemed to think she was mentally unstable. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing," Hannah shook her head, grinning. Her smile melted to seriousness. "You can take the bed tonight, Kazekage-sama. My treat."

He had different ideas. "You may have the bed, Hannah," he refused graciously. "I am accustomed to uncomfortable sleeping surfaces."

_Not only is he a pervert, but a sexist! How dare he insinuate I'm a china figure on a pedestal! _"No," Hannah told him stiffly, "Would you deny me the right to play hostess, Kazekage-sama?"

His ringed eyes narrowed. "I am fine with the couch."

"You're not sleeping with me."

"I have no intention of sleeping with you," Gaara growled, leaning on one elbow.

Hannah crossed her legs under the table and folded her arms. "Then I guess you'll settle for the bed." She stuck out her chin. It was battle of the feminist and sexist.

Both glared at each other, tension sizzled like lightening in the air. Sparks were hurled back and forth between them. Ice cracked in Gaara's aqua marine eyes contrasting the incensed blaze consuming Hannah's green-grey eyes.

"I'll prepare the bed," the hostess said, frost rimming her words. Hannah snatched a candle and strode away from the table, smoldering.

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own Aladdin, the song _Arabian Nights_, the song _Friend Like Me,_ or the prologue to Aladdin or Beauty and the Beast, 

(Spanish) Hola...Cómo estás?- Hello...How are you?

Kanji- love

Ai- love

Aijin- lover


	5. Twenty Sirens and Silk

Gaara bored a gaping hole through the wall with his glare. His elbows propped on the table, his entwined fingers covered the severe frown on the Kazekage's pallid features. He was angry. Why wouldn't the woman just sleep in the bed?

She was like Temari's double! 'Women can do anything a man can but better' all over again.

The red haired boy thought back on their recent conversation: (flashback)

"_NOOO!!" Kankuro leapt from the Kazekage tower, escaping Temari's clutc- grasp._

"_Chikusho! I almost had him," his pregnant sister cursed. "Small wonder none of the ANBU could find him. He was hiding in your office!"_

_Gaara ignored the accusation and asked, "I estimate you found a suitable candidate for Kankuro?"_

_The kunoichi smiled unpleasantly, leaning on her fan which she used as more of a staff to lean upon these days. Her stomach was huge. "A rather nice princess from the Hidden Village of Grass will suit that puppeteer just fine."_

"_From the Grass Village? Are you sure she agreed?"_

"_She was the only one that accepted my proposal to meet Kankuro. Although I feel rather guilty pairing her with that lazy ass baboon, I believe the princess might be able to handle him," Temari chuckled._

_Gaara smiled. Temari perceived her brother's amusement. _

"_Don't laugh at Kankuro's misfortune, Gaara. I brought my case to the Elders and they decided you must find a bride within a year or else you settle for one of their choice. Remember the girl must fulfill the First Lady of Sunagakure and, of course, your own standards," Temari smirked._

_Gaara couldn't move. He felt ill. His mouth wouldn't budge. The expression was priceless._

"_What did you scheme this time, Temari?" The Kazekage moaned, hiding his face in his hands. Perhaps Kankuro had been smart to run away after all…_

"_I rounded up twenty women from around the world. They will be arriving in two weeks. Besides them, you have the single village women. A ball is being held in Sunagakure in seven months. Princesses will arrive from different villages. These are your choices for brides."_

_Why me? Gaara wondered. "One year?"_

"_One year," she nodded, face calm, but inside she was overjoyed her youngest brother was actually considering it. The prospect of her being an aunt in a year or two was overwhelming._

_On the other hand, Gaara felt this marriage business outweighed his backed paperwork or any of his other current problems. This was not something he was looking forward to. The fangirl populace in Suna would double, no triple!_

"_I have my own terms," the Kazekage spoke up._

_Temari's happy moment shattered. "What about?" she asked dazedly._

_Gaara had to think fast._

(end flashback) One year and a ball in seven months. Actually, a series of balls: one to celebrate Shikamaru and his sister's marriage, another for the baby shower, a third for the actual arrival of the damned thing, and a fourth for his wedding rehearsal. The fifth was his wedding.

Because of one damned little baby Suna's tax payers were going to suffer. It was illogical. Women were illogical. How could his sibling expect him to choose _one_ woman to spend the rest of his life in _one_ year?

The ANBU Kankuro had sent to investigate Hannah discovered she was one of the twenty, yet Gaara found it odd she wasn't even giving him a second glance. The American only seemed to glare at him.

Gaara watched Hannah stalk out of the bedroom with a large comforter under her arm like a sack of potatoes. She flung it onto the couch, muttering under breath. The red haired nin didn't doubt it was about him.

It was only male of him to realize his capricious hostess had changed into her pajamas. She wore a baggy velvety teal jacket zipped up that fell to mid thigh.

Gaara blushed faintly because her shorts- if she was wearing any- were not visible. His poor male, hormonal-driven imagination was going bananas.

And it was only male to appreciate her long legs. The tempting exposed skin was smooth, long, captivating, long, slim but not twig thin, and long. They were the vaguest hint of tan and perfectly shaped. Freckled on them, even from this distance, Gaara spotted moles.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked. He needed a distraction from the mischievous suggestions from naughty Gaara, who had suddenly appeared. "You sleep like that?"

"Yeah, why? Does it look bad on me?"

"No," Gaara said, averting his eyes. He had nearly choked on his words. Those long legs were tormenting him, testing his self control. It was a good thing Gaara was a master of self control.

"It does look horrible on me!" Hannah cried out in a tone of dismay that turned the Kazekage's head. "You're looking away because it's ugly!"

The red haired boy blinked. "What's ugly?"

"My legs!"

Gaara nearly laughed, but kept a straight face. He stood, keeping his back to her legs, and picked up the cold pizza. "No, its fine," he assured with little emotion in his voice. The image of her bare legs burned before his eyes, the moles taunting him.

Like little chocolate kisses. Gaara wanted to lick them off her.

The Kazekage unceremoniously barred naughty Gaara back into a room for that unhelpful thought. Coughing slightly, he turned around and expertly concentrated on her face in the dim candlelight.

Hannah lay sideways, taking up the entire couch, covered in a hefty, dark blanket. She blew out her candle. For extra safety measure, she licked her fingers and touched the wick. The American flashed him a smile. "Oyasuminasai, Kazekage-sama."

"Good night," he replied.

"Oh, and Kazekage-sama, the score is Hannah: two; Gaara: zero."

He started. Two points?! The first for flipping him over her shoulder. The second for winning the couch. Gaara blew out both candles with silent amusement. Hannah was an opponent not to be underestimated.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah kept her eyes closed as she woke up. The covers constricted around her body, especially her chest, and exposing her legs. She shivered and rubbed an eye. Since when was the couch so concrete and flat?

She opened her eyes- and quizzically stared at upside down black rings. It took Hannah's sleep-confounded mind a few minutes to register that her eyes were extremely close to the Kazekage's upside down shut ones. Hannah stiffened and contemplated moving slowly so as not to disturb him or quickly to simply escape when something brushed her hair.

Her eyes shrunk with horror and Hannah stifled a horrified gasp. Gaara's hand was entangled in her hair! And her hand was entwined in his locks!

Hannah's hand gently removed itself from the leader of Suna's flaming- not to mention incredibly soft baby- hair before flying to her side. Now Gaara made an 'nnnhn' grumble and his forehead touched hers.

The American had never realized how long the Kazekage's spiky yet floppy hair was until it poked her eyes. Even in his sleep, the sand nin exerted a soothing calmness that could tranquilize the most panicky being.

Such was the effect on Hannah- high strung and laid back. They were mere inches apart and the hostess could barely breathe for fear of waking him up and finding them both in awkward positions.

They were lying opposite of one another. Hannah's body laid on its right side and his laid on his left, causing their foreheads to touch. Thankfully, she wasn't lying by his _side_. That would have been a thousand-fold worse. As it was, steam was coming out of Hannah's red head. Gaara's spindly fingers flowed effortlessly between her locks and he murmured something, causing her to hold her breath for dear life.

"Mhn…silky…" He sighed.

Hannah nearly screamed because she was freakin' out. No one ever told her that her hair was silky. No one ever ran their fingers through her hair. And no one had ever been this close to Hannah's lips in her entire life.

The mortified American bolted upright and replaced where she had been with a pillow. Apparently Gaara noticed the change in his sleep because he began to wake. Hannah burst into the bathroom and, with aching slowness (she didn't want to alarm him), shut the door.

Her fingers dug into the edges of the counter top as she gulped deep breaths of stress-relieving air. Hannah's muscles felt tense, pumped full of adrenaline. She ran a shaky hand through her auburn hair.

Gaara's words echoed in her ears. _"Mhn…silky." _

Of course, he had been asleep and wouldn't remember a thing, but Hannah felt as though she'd been scarred for life. She'd always thought of herself as an all-around average-looking person, neither worth attention nor praise. Hannah knew she had low self esteem, but people…just didn't…just weren't nice to her. She didn't know why they were so cruel, calling her beautiful in fake sincere tones.

After several minutes of hair pulling and silent screaming, Hannah composed herself and opened the door. Gaara was sitting up, leaning on one arm, in the process of rubbing an eye.

"Oh my gosh!" Hannah practically shouted. "Your arm!"

His left arm had a puncture mark and oozy, dry blood trailed down his dark plum purple sleeve. The blue and white Kage robes revealed a blood stain on a folded sleeve.

Hannah snatched a roll of gauze bandages and duct tape. She wetted a tissue and plopped down beside her injured guest. "Lift your sleeve," she ordered. "I'm going to clean your wound so it doesn't get infected."

It turned out Gaara's sleeve didn't roll up too well. "Take off those clothes and change into your Kage robes," Hannah suggested. "_In the bathroom_," she added, hastily covering her eyes as Gaara's hand went to take off his brown vest.

She missed his smirk. Hannah uncovered her eyes as the bathroom door closed. There were maroon stains on his ceremonial Kage robes down his white sleeve where it had been ripped. The American resolved to hide the robes and patch them up for him.

Gaara remerged from the restroom in his Kage robes and Hannah could see his discarded clothing in a heap on the bathroom floor. Fighting dirty thoughts, she concentrated as the Kazekage sat down.

He rolled up his voluminous, stained sleeve. Hannah ignored how the action of rolling up his sleeve piqued her hormones, which had been acting up lately. The American gingerly cleaned the wound because she was afraid of hurting Gaara. She wrapped the gauze bandages around his forearm slowly and gently. With a grin, Hannah duct taped the bandage in place.

Gaara arched a nonexistent eyebrow. "Duct tape?"

She giggled. "'Silence is golden; duct tape is silver; rope is bronze.'"

The German saying with her own addition at the end amused the Kazekage. Hannah stood up and went into the kitchen, planning on scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon.

"That smells delicious," the red haired boy sniffed as he reappeared by her side in his normal outfit. He was so close. Hannah gulped uneasily and focused on the sizzling bacon.

"The eggs and toast are done," she announced, "the bacon is almost finished too."

As she filled his plate, Gaara scratched his hair. His soft-as-a-baby's-hair. "Feeding my army too?" he smirked, taking a bite out of the toast.

"Nah, just you," Hannah retorted with a smile.

"I don't want to lose my figure and resemble a pig," The Kazekage made a face.

"And a fiery, sour, cute pig you'd make," laughed the cook.

He stared at her. "You think I'm cute?" Gaara whispered with a small smirk. Hannah's cheeks tinted and she snorted, "If pigs can be considered cute."

Both could see she was faking. Gaara's wounded ego perked at the compliment. "Do you starve yourself?" asked the Kazekage.

"No, why?"

"You are incredibly thin," the red haired boy pointed out. "There are dark circles under your eyes, too. It's not intelligent to dwell on a shallow thing."

Hannah stiffened. "For your information, I only 'starved' myself because I had to pay astronomical bills to repair this place. I have circles under my eyes because I'm an insomniac and I have no intention of oogling at myself in the mirror for hours, Kazekage-sama."

Gaara was surprised to find another insomniac, but then again not surprising. A woman as dedicated as Hannah had a lot on her mind. So did he. "Do you think yourself beautiful?" the Kazekage inquired on impulse.

"Why would you care about my opinion, Kazekage-sama?" Hannah snorted. The American had adapted to having her ideas suppressed all her life and being repressed into what she was now. Why should anyone care what she had to say? It wasn't going to make a difference…

The red haired boy pushed his empty plate away and nearly smiled. "I am the Kazekage. It is my job to care about my people. You are no exception."

Hannah felt thrown off guard by this unexpected gesture. Someone was asking her opinion… "Well, personally, no," she admitted. "I'm just average, plain, normal. Why should I blow up my pride on a false image?"

"You are one of the twenty," Gaara put in slyly.

Hannah didn't start; she had expected him to find out eventually. "Took you that long to figure out, Kazekage-sama?" She arched her eyebrows.

"Anyways, I saw my competitors and I know I'll never win. And I doubt you like being hunted as a trophy, Kazekage-sama. No sane person does. So I'll hang here and do what I can for your little village and help its economical issues."

The leader of Suna felt as though his burden had been lightened. A little. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Hannah shrugged, standing up and placing their dishes in the sink.

Gaara stood. "I will be leaving," he told her. "The shinobi should be watching the enemy, not searching for their Kazekage."

Hannah led him to the door and opened it for him. Aqua marine eyes glanced down on her and the American felt herself blush, averting her face. Slowly, painfully slowly, she wrapped her arms around his middle.

The Kazekage, on the other hand, found himself at a loss for what to do. He awkwardly patted her back until she let go. Now her green-grey eyes couldn't meet his figure.

"G-Good bye, Kazekage-sama," she stammered, face flaming.

"Good-bye, Hannah."

* * *

Chikusho- dammit

Oyasuminasai- good night


	6. Insomnia

Gaara entered his office to find Kankuro lounging in his chair and Temari staring out the window with a concerned frown on her face. They both started when he entered. "Gaara!" the siblings stammered in surprise. A trio of ANBU appeared.

"Temari-san, Kankuro-san, we could not locate the Ka-" Baki paused as his eyes snagged on their missing leader. "Kazekage-sama!" The ANBU bowed respectfully.

He dismissed them with a gesture and they vanished. "Where have you been?" Kankuro demanded.

"I was delayed by the storm," Gaara assured them.

"What have you been doing?" The puppet master continued, arching an eyebrow. He grinned. "I hope you've been with a woman."

"I have."

His siblings' jaw hung open and the Kazekage relished in their shock before explaining. "I stayed at Hannah's apartment to wait out the sandstorm," he clarified. "Nothing happened between us."

Kankuro rolled his eyes and muttered something about a 'missed opportunity' and 'hot girl'. Temari's mouth was still tilted downwards. Her teal eyes seemed to be gazing over him, searching for something.

"Gaara," she said, a playful smile lighting her face, "Where are your ceremonial robes?"

The red haired boy froze. He remembered holding them as he went to leave…and Hannah hugging him. That crafty minx! She had stolen his Kage robes! He berated himself for not noticing it earlier.

His siblings found this amusing. They were laughing.

"Wow," Kankuro gasped, delicately wiping an eye to avoid smearing his purple paint. "Are you _sure_ nothing happened Gaara? Or do you not remember?"

The males were unprepared when Temari's laughs quickly transformed into retching. Gaara summoned a team of medical nin.

"Temari-san should be given an immediate check-up," proclaimed one alarmed medic.

The air was tense as their sister was rushed to the hospital. The Kazekage sent for a messenger. The shinobi arrived promptly and stood erect, proud to be chosen by his leader.

"Go to Konoha and alert Shikamaru that Temari has need of him," Gaara informed him. "Request his presence in Suna immediately."

"Hai, Kazekage!" The eager young man rushed out of his office in a flurry.

The Subaku brothers were silent for five minutes before Kankuro sighed, "You really didn't do anything, did you, Gaara? How could you miss that opportunity with a hot female?"

Hannah's long, healthy legs flashed before the red haired ninja's aqua marine eyes. The moles mocked his repressed agony. Naughty Gaara produced a picture of his own pale hand running from her ankle up and up…

The Kazekage abruptly cut off the image as his imaginary hand reached imaginary Hannah's bare thigh. He cleared his throat in a business-like tone, "Should I retrieve my robes?"

The puppet master shook his head with a chuckle. "We can always make another. She probably wanted them as a souvenir. By the way, what happened to your arm?" Kankuro pointed to the dark stain running down his left violet sleeve.

"I'll take care of that shortly," Gaara replied, having a brief flashback of Hannah duct taping the gauzy bandage to his arm with a large, keen grin.

Kankuro suddenly shuddered. "Isn't it disgusting how lovers dote on one another?"

"Some day, Kankuro-san, _you_ will fall in love and Sunakagure will chortle over the fall of the notorious Suna bachelor," a smiling, good humored, married nurse chuckled. "Think of your little wife, how pleased she will be."

"That's even worse!" Kankuro shuddered, eyes flitting to the open window.

The light purple haired female medic giggled before becoming serious. "Temari-san is six and a half months pregnant and has two healthy twins. However, she should not move around much. Unfortunately, she will have to be bedridden until the babies' birth."

Gaara had the image of Temari swinging an IV at the doctors and nurses, shouting curses.

The nurse left and Kankuro stood, taking a deep inhale. "I better work on my puppets. Who knows what could happen?" The puppet master adjusting the three scrolls on his back before leaping out the window.

The Kazekage's eyes fell back onto the overflowing backed paperwork.

-----------

Gaara lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. When he did, irrationals dreams of oppressing loneliness with cages and bars trapped him.

The Kazekage sat up, allowing the blankets to fall back and reveal a muscular chest- the kind he didn't have to work for. His black silk pants brushed his skin comfortingly yet…

The red haired boy left his bed and stared up at the moon through the porthole.

The silence was thunderous, filled with tormenting emptiness as his chilly sheets seemed to bite his skin. Somehow it reminded Gaara that someone was not there, someone who should be there. His unconscious was panicking over the vacancy, realizing something was wrong.

The Kazekage recalled his dream earlier, closing his eyes, basking in the silvery moonlight.

'_Fingers brushed through his hair, snarling themselves willingly in the tangles of red. The face of a consoling presence near to his preserved his fragile sleep. Gaara felt for some part of her, to ensure she was not a part of this dream._

'_His fingers caught her hair. It was soft, feathery. "Mhm…silky," The red haired boy murmured appreciatively. His contentment grew and Gaara felt as assured, safe- but it was deeper than that, deeper than any emotion he had previously experienced._

'_She gave a quiet gasp of surprise at his compliment. The sound reminded him of a gentle doe- wide eyed and easily startled. A beautiful doe. Gaara's doe trembled as he tried to ease her fears by stroking her hair. __Suddenly she was gone and he faced a yawning, senseless darkness. He searched for her, but found no trace of his demure, tender doe. Disappointed, Gaara roused into consciousness.'_

The red haired ninja could still feel the invisible fingers running through his hair similar to a breeze rustling it. Ironically, he could remember the feel of her soft strands curling around his fingertips. Gaara paused, stunned at his thoughts. Here he was, thinking about a mystery girl when he had more important things to do for his village.

The Kazekage wondered, wryly, if Hannah had spiked his drink with anything.

He pivoted and placed himself back in his cold, uncomfortable bed. Gaara stared at the ceiling before turning onto his stomach, staring at the door longingly as if waiting for someone to appear.

Finally, he grasped one of the plump pillows and hugged it close, giving a sigh of resignation.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Coincidentally, Hannah went to gaze at the moon before gracing the bed with her presence. To her, pondering the universe while staring at the moon was a tribute to the silvery, magical light that seemed cast by the giant milky ball.

_Ball. _Hannah leaned her head against the porthole as she gazed at the moon, lonely. It was a different lonely from what Gaara was experiencing.

_The ball for Shikamaru and Temari's marriage is being held in Konoha this week. I heard the bride was whisked away to the hospital. I wonder if she's okay… _The thought was broken with a long yawn.

Insomnia sucked. The American relived her day, mulling her feelings with Gaara. _How to describe how I feel around him? Comfortable yet annoyed? Embarrassed? Timid? Modest? _

_I wonder why Gaara hasn't retrieved his Kage robes yet…he must know I took it. _She had spent the entire day bleaching the stain from his sleeve and mending the hole. The outfit hung in her bathroom, drying.

Grabbing her Nano, Hannah slid under the poofy covers of her expansive bed. The place seemed bigger, so big it seemed empty. Then again, she had been experiencing loneliness ever since she left America.

Perhaps a little Lifehouse would cheer her up. "_I'm desperate for changing, starving for truth, I'm closer than where I started. I'm chasing after you. I'm falling even more in love with you, letting go of all I've held onto. I'm standing here until you make me move. I'm hanging by a moment here with you._

Hannah began to sing along softly. "_Forgetting all I'm lacking, completely incomplete, I'll take your invitation. You take all of me. Now I'm fallin' even more in love with you, letting go of all I've held onto. I'm standing here until you make me move. I'm hanging by a moment here with you._

"_I'm living for the only thing I know. I'm running and not quite sure where to go. And I don't know what I'm diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you. _

"_There's nothing else to lose. There's nothing else to find. There's nothing in the world…that can change my mind. There is nothing else. There is nothing else._

"_Desperate for changing, starving for truth, I'm closer than where I started chasing after you… Now I'm fallin' even more in love with you, letting go of all I've held onto. I'm standing here until you make me move. I'm hanging by a moment here with you._

"_I'm living for the only thing I know. I'm running and not quite sure where to go. And I don't know what I'm diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you. _

"_Just hanging by a moment (here with you). Hanging by a moment (here with you). Hanging by a moment here with you."_

There was a knock at her door and Hannah dragged her butt out of bed to open the door. Just when she had been dozing off too!

A tall male in black, loose clothing with purple paint on his face stood in front of her door. "What's that on your face?" yawned the sleepy American.

"Face paint. It's my signature," responded the surprised Kankuro.

"It looks more like make-up. Are you gay?"

The puppet master's eye twitched angrily. Hannah giggled. "It's not make-up, girl, and I'm not gay. I'm a puppet master and artist. The face paint is part of the art."

Hannah, tired, had lost interest. "Whatever. It looks like make-up to me, gayboy."

In all his short tempered fame, the 'artist' was beginning to feel his patience wearing thin. "There's a big difference between both of them."

She nodded sleepily. "Suuure. Explain the difference to me in the morning so I can adequately laugh at you then." Wordlessly, Hannah shut the door and re-enforced by sticking a chair underneath the handle.

Ignoring the curses and threats, the American sauntered back to bed, locking the bedroom door if the fool managed to get past the first one.

Immediately, Hannah fell asleep.

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own Lifehouse or _Hanging By a Moment_


	7. The Assault!

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG

"Uuuuhhhhh…" moaned a brain dead girl, barely able to lift her head from her pillow.

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!" snapped Hannah. It was too early for this. Too early to develop a migraine upon waking. If the racket didn't stop soon, someone was gonna die. Probably the noise maker.

"I want those robes back!" shouted the familiar voice of the gay boy.

Hannah was surprised he was still there. Glancing at her alarm clock, it read noon. Perhaps he had gone home and come back. Perhaps he had a death wish too. Where did she keep her cheese grater in the kitchen again?

"Come back _later_, baka!" she yelled at the door.

Hannah leisurely ate breakfast as Kankuro's voice sputtered and died akin to a candle flame exposed to wind. Next, she took a shower, but forgot flushing the toilet made the water insanely cold or blazing hot.

After that Hannah discovered her white clothes were paler from the bleach and shrunk. Dressing in a dark outfit, the American snatched the Kage robes from the hanger and flung the door open, prepared to fling the troublesome thing at Kankuro.

She blinked. There was no one there.

Hannah stuck her head out the door, glancing up, down, and to the sides. Shaking her head and muttering about "someone out to get her", the American made her way up to Kazekage tower. Because Yuri was sick- a rare occurrence- she had no work in the artistic department. Ralph and every other business person were preparing for the ball coming up in two months- the birth of Temari's babies.

As Hannah slipped past the throng of desperate females being held back by a guard of shinobi, Baki caught her. "Where are you going?" he demanded, scowling down his nose at her.

She produced his robes. "I came to return this. I found it."

Handing over the robes to Baki, Hannah realized she was an unknown to the jealous women glaring daggers at her back. A privileged female allowed past their constraints, closer to the target than them. A threat to their mission- win the Kazekage.

In her own opinion, Hannah thought being the wife of the Kazekage was stupid. The danger of being used as blackmail, guards tracing every step…it would be miserable- like living in a cage. The Kazekage was the equivalent to a prince in Hannah's standards. Princes became Kings. Kings were in constant danger of being assassinated with huge responsibility in the form of a gold crown on his head. Anyone who wanted to marry into _that_ job should have their head examined.

Hannah received a rather rude jostling through the crowd. The women shoved her in all directions until she fell out of the harassing riot. The nineteen competitors and fangirls' screams peaked to an all new level and Hannah guessed the Kazekage had made an appearance.

She stood up, brushing herself off and curiously glanced in his direction. His aqua marine eyes were glued to his Kage robes, body stiff. He didn't acknowledge his admirers. Without warning, his head rose and their eyes met, as if he had been sensing her gaze. The effect was a bad nervous shock of timidity as the different shade eyes of envious females condescendingly gazed upon her dispassionately.

To say Hannah felt 'inferior' would be the under-exaggeration of the millennium.

Some of the females fingered kunai and other unpleasant sharp, pointy objects. The American swallowed and ran out of the Kazekage tower with the speed of an excited Lee or Guy. Hannah ran into someone who caught her as she rebound backwards.

An annoyed, insanely tall (_why are the males so tall?_ Hannah wondered) man with hair pinned up in a spiky ponytail, scowl in place. "Troublesome woman, watch where you're going," he muttered.

Judging by his attire of forest green and navy blue uniform similar to the Sand ninjas', Hannah assumed he was a shinobi from another country. On his headband there was a swirl that ended in a triangle that angled back into the outer rim of the swirl.

"G-gomen," she apologized, taking an automatic step back with her head downcast. She waited for a blow- physical or verbal- but none came.

The foreign shinobi gave a drawn sigh. "So are you here for the contest?" he asked.

Hannah nodded, not trusting herself to speak. How embarrassing!

He smirked. "Isn't the Kazekage tower _that_ way?"

The American scowled. "I'm not going to hound the Kazekage. He's busy and has enough problems at the moment. I'll just be patient." She couldn't believe the last sentence she had uttered. Why did she sound like a stalker or black widow?

"Hm," he responded boredly. "Which way is the hospital?"

"Are you Temari-san's husband?" she asked, gathering the courage to look up at his face. Unfortunately, the nin was too lazy to react or bother shifting his facial expression. Hannah wondered if his face was frozen that way…maybe what her mom had said was true…

The shinobi, whom she identified as Shikamaru, barely nodded his head. Hannah led him to the hospital in silence. Neither of them attempted to converse.

The American wandered Suna in tranquility, eyes seeing everything. She stood on a wall that barricaded the city from attack, gazing up at the cloudless cerulean sky.

_I can see more with these eyes than you could hope to see in a thousand years._

Hannah remembered the icon- and the blank, hopeless, depthless eyes of the girl. A voice interrupted her solemn pondering of why the universe was so screwed up. "Citizens don't belong up here," one of the men on watch informed her.

"Oh. Gomen." She continued her drifting, seeing and not seeing where she was going. Therefore, it was some surprise to Hannah when she blinked and found herself striding through a back alley of the Slums where she lived.

Everyone knows back alleys are never a good thing.

Hannah didn't know _why_ that was true. Maybe it was because a dozen diverse male silhouettes were surrounding her and closing in? Perhaps their crooked leering, catcalls, and whistles? Or possibly the fact every one of them resembled a moving trash pile?

Yeah. _That_ wasn't suspicious. Or a good thing.

Hannah lowered herself into a defensive position, fists clenched, and head whipping around to check on each advancer. Whoever was making the first move would charge in first, the rest would follow.

The American wasn't a shinobi, but she did know a little Judo, karate, and street fighting.

"Look guys, why don't we discuss this over a cup of tea?" Hannah tried the English temptation of herbal tea. Apparently Japanese weren't all that into tea.

"How about in bed?" one whistled. The others laughed, a cacophony of barking noises.

A thin weed-like man with sallow skin, sunk in gleaming green eyes, and matted deep azure hair was the first to attack. He leapt forward and Hannah rewarded his bravery with a punch to the side of his jaw. The assailant crumpled in a filthy heap.

"'A woman is like a teabag- only in hot water do you realize how strong she is,'" Hannah quoted Nancy Reagan, lecturing groupo estupido.

A burly, albeit hairy, man grabbed Hannah from behind and hoisted her into the air, affectively preventing her from using her arms. The five- seven is a lucky number- left charged. It was like a classic Hollywood movie fight scene.

Hannah's legs pumped into four grotesque faces. The last one caught one of her legs and kissed her calf greedily. The American, blushing, gave a high harpie cry and kicked him repeatedly with her other foot.

Hannah screeched in her loudest voice, which was very loud because she didn't talk much, "WHAT THE _BLOODY_ HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING TO MY LEG, YOU FRIGGIN' PERVERTED DOOSHBAG?!"

Big-and-Hairy clamped a massive hand over her nose and mouth. Hannah licked his huge palm, dug her finger nails into his thick skin to no avail. The American began writhing like Sméagol with the elvish rope on his neck, glad she was flexible.

Apparently, the big man wasn't used to such wildly, flexible squirming prey because he had trouble keeping a hold on her. Finally, Hannah, thinking dog thoughts- basely pit bull- bit his large sausage finger.

Big-and-Hairy cursed and she tasted blood. Oh the bitter irony.

Hannah released his finger when he made it clear he was going to throw her.

Cool, foul air rushed past her body as it flew until her back collided with a collection of tin trash cans. The American groaned and shakily picked herself from the rubble. She eyed the Seven, wincing with each breath.

That fool had injured one of her ribs!

One was helping the sallow man she'd taken down first, another was staunching his bloody nose, and an angry Big-and-Hairy was fingering his…well, finger. Only three managed to escape her barrage of kicking with bruises. Only one was unbruised, the one who had kissed her calf.

These three were the ones approaching Hannah.

Feeling ill from the stench and in pain, the American had no energy left. All the adrenaline high had run out. Even Ralph's training techniques on fighting, her Judo, and karate didn't help without some energy.

_Ralph said something about chakra… _

_Well, if chakra is energy, then I'm almost out, _she thought grimly. Her vision swam and Hannah retched, choking on the acerbic bile. One of the men chuckled.

"Gettin' warn out, puss? I hope you're as feisty in bed as you are in battle," purred the middle one. His tone and pet names caused Hannah's sickness to recede into horror. She stared at him with utter revulsion.

Anger started roiling. Hannah was tired. Hannah was in pain. Americans don't do so well on that combination- especially when anger comes whisperin' devilish suggestions. Self control splintered and gave way.

She saw red mist. The three were close. Hannah leapt with a banshee shriek and viciously attacked the man with everything she had- fists, teeth, nails- anything to kill him.

A hand grasped her forearm roughly and in one motion, she was on him, screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs and tearing him apart like a rabid animal.

She whirled around to face the last guy, but he was making tracks. Hannah panted deeply, a trickle of crimson blood dribbling down her chin. She glared at the last man to disappear- the one who had smooched her calf. He treated her to a roguish smile and vanished in a puff of grey smoke.

Another group of men appeared, but they were ninja.

Hannah wearily repeated her defensive stance.

One of them held up their hands in a 'don't shoot' gesture and explained, "We heard you yelling. We're here to help."

_Help?! HELP?! Where the hell were they while I was fending off seven males at once? _Apparently 'help' pops up when it _isn't_ needed and never shows up _when_ needed.

'Screw help' was Hannah's motto. It was every man for himself. The American swore 'help' was simply a cruel joke to make people miserable.

Hannah gave a weary snort, coughing. When she moved her hand away from her mouth, blood ran through her fingers.

The leader took a step forward. "After we escort you to the hospital, the Kazekage requests a meeting."

_Just what I need, _she thought dryly. _More 'help'. _

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own Nancy Reagan's quote or Sméagol

baka- idiot, moron, stupid person

gomen- shorter version of sorry (gomen nasai is the polite verson)


	8. Jeopardy and Jealousy

She woke up in a white hospital bed, feeling drugged. Everything was so heavy and lax. The only reason Hannah was aware she was in a hospital was:

A) Everything was _white_, and Hannah thought white was the most boring color _ever (it's so plain!)_

b) The air reeked of antibiotics, like a laboratory haven for mad scientists

c) There was a _white_ curtain drawn around her _white_ bed

The American couldn't open her mouth. It felt sealed shut. After five minutes of moving her lips around in a comedic fashion, Hannah managed to separate her lips- immediately wishing she hadn't.

It tasted as though a large something had crept into her mouth and died. She couldn't get rid of the taste. Her mouth was dry as the air outside and her tongue felt fuzzy- never a good sign.

Hannah spotted a clear glass of liquid life on the _white_ table to her left out of the corner of her eye. She vainly tried to move her leaden arm. It was like a sandbag!

The American scowled at the mocking cup of water, rim shining in the light with a tantalizing twinkle that was irritating her. _Stupid drink._

Fortunately, a nurse happened to check on her. She understood croaks and Hannah's lusty glances at the glass, handing it to her. She drank it down quickly without choking or spilling. She asked the nurse for several more, causing her to raise her plucked eyebrows. Hannah couldn't get enough of the crystal liquid.

"How much water have you had?"

Hannah choked and coughed, seeing the Kazekage in his (_no more white!_ Hannah mentally wailed) ceremonial garments. "Only a few shots," she shrugged, clearing her throat.

She saw the minute twitch of his lips. "Water doesn't substitute for sake, Hannah," he smirked, eyeing her with a pleasant gleam in his bright eyes.

SPLASH!

"Very true. Sugar is better," Hannah giggled, studying the water stain near Gaara's pants.

He scowled darkly. "Thanks. This material was imported from New York."

Hannah sucked in a horrified breath. _New York!_

Gaara saw her terrified expression and smirked.

SPLASH!

The Kazekage wiped his dripping face with distaste. "What happened in that alley way?" he inquired, standing by her _white_ bedside near the _white_ table.

Hannah repeated her story in a matter-of-fact 'your stupid 'help' was late' tone. She riddled the tale with sarcasm and drama, minus the curse words. The red haired boy was pensive. They remained in semi-comfortable, irritated silence for a while, each wrapped up in their own mysterious thoughts. Gaara glanced down at her. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Hannah thought her thoughts were worth more than a penny.

"There's too much shiroi (white)!" she complained, gesturing with her less heavy arm.

"You won't be in the hospital too long," Gaara assured her, donning his Kage hat. He stayed rooted by her bed.

She eyed him suspiciously, certain he was going to do something strange. "Erm, aren't you going? What about your paper work?" Hannah questioned awkwardly.

He blinked. "It can wait."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing…just…the pleasure of your company, Hannah."

The American knew her brain panicked something was fundamentally _wrong_ with Gaara's sentence. No one ever wanted the 'pleasure of her company.'

She scowled up at him. "Alright, mister. Who are you and what have you done with the real Kazekage-sama?"

Gaara seemed faintly amused. "I assure you I am the 'real Kazekage-sama'."

"Prove it. That's what the fake would say, consummate liar."

"Crazy sadist."

"Crazy, arrogant, stiff baka." Ha. She beat him.

Gaara glared. No need for him to get pissy. "Okay, you're the real Kazekage-sama."

The red haired boy's mouth grimaced at the title. "Hannah, you don't have to add the unnecessary suffix after Kazekage."

"Why?"

" It is too proper."

"What's wrong with proper?" Hannah huffed.

"Nothing." The American grinned as she saw Gaara peer out a window cautiously.

"So you're hiding from your fangirls and nineteen competitors?" she chortled. "I almost feel sorry for you, Kazekage-sama!"

Gaara sent her a withering glare before saying a brisk 'good-bye' and disappearing behind the curtain, albeit _white_.

Another nurse came in with a glass of water, handing it to her. Hannah frowned. The nurse was different than the last one. Her blond hair was cut short and she stared at me over her glasses. Truly- her name clip- smiled too broadly and her brown eyes glinted maliciously. She seemed to be pleased…evilly so as she left.

Hannah stared down at the liquid. It was clear.

Swallowing, Hannah sniffed it warily. It stunk of garlic.

The American, paranoid about poison, dropped her glass cup over the edge of the bed. Her throat suddenly clogged and she began hacking up a lung- or so it felt. After a few minutes of wheezing, Hannah shut her eyes.

Coughing so much was exhausting. The patient fell asleep.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

"Poison?" The Kazekage frowned.

Disturbingly, one of the nurses reported mopping up a glass of water by Hannah's bedside. The medic, out of curiosity, tested the water and found traces of lethal poison. At first, she though Hannah was dead- laying there so still, unmoving, and quiet.

But the American was alive. Apparently someone wanted her otherwise.

Gaara suspected the assault on the girl and the poison were related. Hannah was the target of an assassin, a rampant poisoner. The Kazekage estimated the cause was because of the contest and she was 'close' him.

Word traveled that he had waited out the sandstorm at her apartment and Hannah had mended his Kage robes for him.

The culprit was obviously jealous, and females were the suspects.

The Kazekage sighed, massaging his temples. None of this would be happening if Temari had let him live his life single. He dredged up a team from his army and assigned them to watch over Hannah and her welfare.

She was someone who had been so close to losing her life, someone who had been close to being lost forever...

Kankuro burst back into the office, delicately holding a vial of sloshing orange liquid. He produced the beaker before his younger brother. "This was the poison used. Phosphine. Tasteless, but flammable at high temperatures. The easiest way to identify it is by the garlic or fishy smell."

Gaara rolled his eyes at his brother's joke.

"Anyway, we can't tell if Hannah has sipped the poison," Kankuro told the Kazekage.

"Why not?"

"She chucked the table at the nurses and now she's waving the IV around," Kankuro sighed as if he had more amusing things to see, "I'll bet the bed will be next."

Gaara stood and trailed Kankuro to the hospital, surrounded by an entourage of shinobi. Upon arriving in the hall of the recovering bay, the men could hear Hannah threatening to skewer anyone who dared come near her.

They entered the room to find Hannah grasping the IV like a bat and the frightened nurses and doctors huddled deeply in a corner and edges of the wall.

"Hannah, you can relax," Gaara told her calmly. "You are frightening my nurses and doctors."

Kankuro signaled the subjects of the conversation to slip out of the room unnoticed. The American snorted. "Relax, my arse!"

"What do you mean?" Gaara frowned.

"I woke up with a kunai at my throat and a masked freak in black hovering over me! He was wearing a raven mask and we all know ravens mean death," Hannah exclaimed caustically. "I mean, words of 'f', why is someone so intent on seeing me clammy and stiff?!"

The Sabaku brothers shared a look. The murderer was intent on seeing the American six feet under sand. Things were more dangerous than either had expected.

"Hannah, you and the other competitors are in danger. I am designating you all in one building-" Gaara began.

"That's stupid," Hannah cut in. "An explosive tag would finish us all off if we were all in the same building, killing off most of the competition."

"All competitors for…ah, my hand shall live on the same block until the perpetrator has been apprehended," Gaara ordered. "Only the contestants will live in the households, five women to a house. No visitors are permitted."

In her mind, Hannah saw iron bars slamming down. Things would officially begin to suck.

* * *

shiroi- white 


	9. Women Troubles

Hannah was moved into her new living quarters secretly by one ANBU. How that was accomplished? The American curled up in a duffle bag and the ANBU member transported her to the house- or so Hannah hoped.

Of all the movies she had seen and books she had read, the dog-face masked ninja could be an impersonator. It didn't help that there had been two attempts on her life, or Gaara instructed her personal entourage to train her. In the way of the ninja.

Personally, Hannah was thrilled. She was going to become a frickin' ninja!

Although Ralph had taught her a bit of taijutsu, Gaara explained it wouldn't be enough to stop a professional ninja assassin.

Temari announced, to lessen the throng of females and root out the killer, that there would be rounds. Rounds involving ninja skills. Hannah's brain knew the necessity of learning quickly depended on her staying in Suna and staying _alive_.

The first round was three days before the ball marking Shikamaru and Temari's marriage. Of course it was dancing and Hannah, although a good dancer, hated dancing.

She was a modest dancer. She moved like a reed in the wind. If anyone ever wanted her to die of humiliation, dancing was perfect. Hannah didn't do classical dances, or any dances other than the dirty dance moves her friends had taught her.

"Stay in the house as much as possible," advised the mysterious dog-face masked nin.

"Er, so what type of dances do I have to practice?" Hannah asked.

He cocked his head. "Waltzing, Latin Swing, Salsa, and Mai."

"Uh, what is Mai?" a confused American asked, sweatdropping.

"Mai is performed in Japanese rooms, not a stage. The Kyomai or Kyoto Style Dance is a part of Mai, heavily depending on elegance and sophistication of manners associated with royalty," The ANBU explained.

Hannah entered the house, locking the door with a sense of dread. She should just buy her ticket to America now. There was no way she could waltz, swing, salsa, _and _do a traditional Japanese dance!

"Baka Japanese hime-samas have the advantage," Hannah muttered, cursing the princesses of the hidden villages. She would have to find herself a willing partner and practice with him. "B-but _dancing_ with the _K-Kazekage_!?"

It was like a hellish nightmare come true. She could imagine herself trampling his toes every other step, reducing them to mush.

Stretching her stiff muscles, Hannah was unnerved to find her belongs in their respective suitcases and backpack. Perhaps she should rig her window and door next time.

_It would lessen chances of visitors or an unexpected 'hello' from my killer_, Hannah reflected, wondering if she had more than one killer. The portentous thought made goose bumps break out on her skin.

Climbing the carpeted steps, the American recalled another aspect about the round she hated- the dress. Hannah wasn't a dress or skirt person. Dresses, high heels, and skirts- evil things invented by perverts who didn't want their dates to escape quickly while getting a peek at the female's underwear.

She was a baggy clothing person- shorts and shirts, hiding her ugly body beneath them.

Another con was make up. Cosmetics weren't her area of expertise and the American doubted her ambitious fellow housemates would lend a skilled hand.

Choosing a plain grey room with two large beds and picking the bed farthest from the window, Hannah slid her things under the bed. She crawled underneath and fell asleep, draped over her things.

----------

"Words of 'd'," Hannah cursed under her breath as four more females entered through the door.

One of them was a toothpick- skinny, slender, gorgeous, pale pink skin- with long black hair tied in a loose ponytail. Her hazel eyes snagged on me. She wore a dark purple miniskirt with light lilac polka dots. Her cleavage-sneak preview shirt was the light lilac color that accentuated every curve of her body.

The middle woman had pale porcelain skin and shocking green eyes, blending with her teal hair that was pulled into a high ponytail. Over her nose and mouth, she wore a black mask. Underneath her navy blouse and corduroy pants, was black spandex that covered her skin. The eccentric woman also wore black gloves.

The third, however, nearly made Hannah choke on her scrambled eggs. She had choppy, unruly blonde hair. Her cold brown eyes reflected no light. Her body was curvy and slender in every way possible. From her perfect hair to her perfect manicured, painted toenails.

Everything the blond wore was pink, purple, or bright colors. The competitor didn't seem pleased to see Hannah or the other two. The American could guess she was fantasizing about walking down the isle in her lacy, ruffled white wedding gown toward Gaara.

"Who are _you_?" the blond asked in a perfect imitation of a preppy.

"Anna," Hannah lied, using one of her nicknames. "or Anne. Who are you three?"

"Rin," piped up the blond. "Rin Nikomedes."

"Chika Ayame," answered the black haired female coolly.

The woman with teal hair hesitated. "Maite Daisuke."

Although they glanced at her in askance, Hannah didn't feel compelled to share her last name. Rin made herself at home, plopping down in the chair like she owned the place.

"So when did you get here?" she asked, leaning forward, exposing Hannah to an attack of cleavage. The American stood and placed her dish in the sink. _Does it matter when I got here? _She wanted to snap, but told her, "Not too long before you three."

Hannah wouldn't give any of them direct answers unless forced. They didn't need to know anything. Deep down, in every female, was a jealous monster that overshadowed any males'. "_For the female of the species is more deadly than the male_" as Rudyard Kipling so astutely put and Hannah believed it. She had witnessed enough fights between a pair of females and a pair of males to know women fight with a passionate hate.

There was an awkward silence and Hannah left before she got a stomach ulcer. By the time she'd unpacked and grabbed a blank canvas, Maite Daisuke, the teal haired one, opened the door.

"Oh, g-gomen nasai," Maite said, beginning to retreat.

"No prob," Hannah invited with a wave of her hand. "You can share the room as long as you don't snore or sleep walk."

The light pink skinned girl gave a wane smile and strode over to the bed. The American painted as her new roommate finished. Maite glanced over her shoulder and read aloud, "_'I shall pass this way but once. Any good that I can do or any kindness that I can show, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again_' by Anonymous."

"That's so sweet," gasped Maite Daisuke. "I like it."

"You can keep it if one of us gets eliminated," Hannah told her, tacking it up on a wall by their mirror. "This is one of my favorite quotes."

"I think it will become one of mine too."

"So," Hannah shut and bolted the door. "why are you after the Kazekage?"

"I'm not after the Kazekage."

"No kidding. Who caught your eyes?" Hannah leaned back on the bed, hands entwined under her head.

"Kankuro-san."

"You like him?"

"I-I don't know," answered the helpless girl.

"Have you seen him or met him?"

"Seen."

"You liiike him. You wanna kiss him. You wanna" Hannah made a rude gesture causing Maite's face to turn bright red "him," teased the American.

"I-I don't want to" Maite repeated the gesture falteringly "him!"

Hannah gave slowly nodded her head. "Uh huh. That's what they all say."

"So why are you here?" asked the teal haired woman, changing the subject.

"Stupid Internet bribe, but I kinda got attached" Hannah didn't want to say love "to the country and it's become my temporary home- one I like. I don't really care about the money anymore. At first I thought it was all a joke."

"What if you win?" Maite asked.

The American repressed a snort, quoting from Lily Tomlin, "'The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat.'"

"Do you have a quote for everything?"

"Almost, but when I don't I have a song," Hannah grinned.

Maite clambered onto Hannah's bed and leaned so close the American became a little paranoid. "I have a secret," whispered the teal haired girl. "Don't tell."

"I'm Maite Daisuke, Hime of the Hidden Grass Village."

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own quote by Anonymous or quote by Lily Tomlin

Baka- idiot, moron, stupid person

Hime- princess

Gomen nasai- sorry (polite)


	10. Howl

**Disclaimer:** by the way, if you haven't figured it out already- I don't own quizilla, Naruto, Harry Potter, Things I Am Not Allowed to Do At Hogwarts, Dragonlance, or any other books I've read (-mutters- no matter how much I wish I do)

* * *

Hannah cracked open her book of Things I Am Not Allowed to Do At Hogwarts- a favorite past time of her when she was bored. Although none of these sayings had been made by her, Hannah loved them. It had been a while… 

1. _I will not poke Hufflepuffs with spoons, nor will I insist that their House colors indicate that they are 'covered in bees'_

2. _No matter how good a fake Australian accent I can do, I will not imitate Steve Irwin during Care of Magical Creatures class._

Hannah stifled a giggle at that one.

3. _Growing_ _marijuana or hallucinogenic mushrooms is not 'an extra credit project for Herbology'_

4. _"I've heard every possible joke about Oliver Wood's name" is not a challenge_

5_. I am not allowed to breed a liger._

5b. _Putting up Doug Henning posters in Filch's office is not appropriate_

6. _I will not go to class skyclad_

7. _The Giant Quid is not an appropriate date to the Yule Ball_

8. _I_ _will not use Umbridge's quill to write "I told you I was hardcore"_

Hannah covered her mouth and paused to huddle into a shaking ball of mirth. When ever she was feeling down, the American read these to brighten her day.

11. _If a classmate falls asleep, I will not take advantage of that fact and draw a Dark Mark on their arm_

12. _House elves are not acceptable replacements for Bludgers_

Hannah skimmed down the list, laughing, and every once in a while pausing at a particularly amusing saying or hilarious phrase.

23. _I will not bring a Magic Eight Ball to Divination Class_

24. _I will not place anything by Silver Ravenwolf on the library shelves_

26. _I am not a sloth Animagus_

28. _I am allowed to have a toad, rat, cat, or owl. I am not allowed to have a reticulated python, snow leopard, Tasmanian devil, or piranha. _

30. _Remus Lupin does not want a flea collar. _

35. _Any resemblance between Dementors and Nazgul is coincidental_

The American was reduced to hysterical giggling, merry tears, and a sore belly. She silently applauded the sarcastic, jokester, yet sometimes perverted minds who had thought of these brilliant axioms. Hannah wanted to award them with a metal or something…

101. _I am not allowed to refer to Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley as Blossom, Buttercup, and Bubbles_

102. _I will not cast the occasional Obliviate spell on Dumbledore, even if it would be amusing_

103. _I am not allowed to give Gryffindors Pixie Stix_

105. _I will not give Hagrid Pokémon cards and convince him that they are real animals_

106. _I am not being repressed_

Hannah's mirth ebbed away at the last word. Repressed. _Repressed…_

_Suppressed- in your life you have been pushed around and your opinions have been shunned. You never get to say what is on our mind and always have to adjust. This may lead to thinking that you are worthless and have low self-esteem. Hidden, unknown, mysterious._

A year ago, Hannah had scoured the internet for quizzes on a quest to find herself- her true, hidden inner self that she couldn't find. What she had found was an equal combination of light and darkness. Yet sometimes it felt so dark.

Night had fallen and there was a full moon outside. Hannah glanced at the sleeping form of Maite, the Princess of the Hidden Grass Village. The American dressed in all black, loose clothing, sure to cover her face.

Hannah slipped on the roof and hopped across rooftops. Ninja had their skillz, for everyone else there was Parkour. The American climbed on the Kazekage tower and stood, shaking. If a breeze happened to come by…

Hannah tilted back her head and howled. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her eyes closed.

_Howl though few know you're crying. _

Hannah howled again, louder for her pain.

_If I cry out, will you hear me?_

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

"Kazekage-sama, there were several reports of a person in black howling on the tower last night," reported a nin, kneeling.

Gaara thought that was one of the queerest incidents in Suna. _A person howling? There had been a full moon last night…_ _Perhaps they were howling at the moon._

"Was the person a male or female?" the red haired leader asked.

"A female, sir."

"Any theories?"

"Belgha, the wife of Ropyr, believes it was a young woman calling for her lost lover." The man began to tick off his fingers. "Yuri, the paint shop owner, thinks it was a mischief maker. Endaki, the builder, estimated a tragic death would occur today. The ANBU suppose it was one of our enemies signaling penetration."

Gaara sighed deeply. "Have the city guards on double alert the next full moon, Vard."

"Yes, Kazekage-sama." The man didn't move. "Kazekage, the villagers would like some assurance there are no enemies in the village. They feel…insecure."

"I will speak with them this afternoon."

"Kazekage-sama, it is the afternoon."

Gaara glanced outside. So it was. He stood and trailed after Vard. When the pair exited the Kazekage tower, the red haired teen was surprised to see the whole village before it.

"Citizens of Suna and competitors, the incident that occurred last night will be investigated. The perpetrator will answer to questioning if caught. There is nothing to worry about," Gaara assured the crowd with a loud voice.

-------------

The person in black appeared again that night, but not at the Kazekage tower. Going back there would have been folly and stupid. She knew they were waiting for her, but Hannah didn't mean to cause trouble.

Everyone was so damn superstitious, it wasn't funny.

The American just wanted to crack the lid of her bottled pain. _I'm the Master of Darkness, _she thought, sliding from shadow to shadow. Hannah held her breath as a pair of shinobi rounded the corner, looking around.

"I thought I heard something…" the female whispered.

"Me too."

Hannah pressed her backside against the wall and held her breath. For long moments they eyed the surrounding area. The American slowly bent down and picked up a small pebble. When they were looking away, Hannah hurled the mini rock down an alley.

"Over there!"

Both jittery nin impulsively leapt toward the alley. Hannah noted with surprise it was the same alley where those Seven had tried to rape her. Hannah, dressed head to toe in black, darted across the moonlit street into the shadows.

A day had past. The moon remained full. The American remained depressed.

Hannah was rather proud of tonight's outfit. She wore black combat boots, baggy obsidian cargo pants, and a loose onyx sweatshirt with flowing sleeves. Tied around her waist was a black scarf. To make herself less recognizable, she wore a dark, preferably black, mask that obscured her nose and mouth. To appear more unisex, Hannah bound her breasts and pulled her hair into a mesh net, wearing a black wig that was cut Cleopatra style. The finite touch was contacts: insanely bright blue eyes (Naruto's eyes).

The American leaned back against a building, crossing her arms, gazing at the serene pearly moonlight. She stood there, thinking, for a long time.

"Freeze!" Hannah nearly jumped out of her skin, tranquility ruined.

Thinking she was doomed, Hannah began to run. Feet clattered behind her and the American was shocked to find herself running alongside her double. The mirror image wore all black, mask included, but coffee eyes flashed.

Hannah glared at her killer. The assassin glowered back.

"Stop!" Neither pursued listened.

A fork came upon them. Hannah ran left; the purple-eyed assassin ran right.

Hannah pushed the image of her would-be killer out of her mind as rooftops began to swarm with Sand ninja. She ran on her tiptoes almost silently, gliding into the shadows until she came to a complete stop.

Gasping quietly, the American broke out in a cold sweat as the enforcers prowled. She sweatdropped, almost wishing she hadn't come out again tonight. _This will be…a bit difficult to explain to the Kazekage. 'Oh yeah, I was yowling on your tower because I'm depressed.' _

Hannah inched along agonizingly slow. She stiffened as an ANBU member's head swiveled in her direction.

There was a cry from the other side of the village. Almost instantly, all the masked 'police' leapt toward the sound. The one member remained.

The American held her breath. He could see her, she was certain of it.

He leapt quickly, vanishing, and reappeared before her. Hannah felt trapped. Her back was against the wall and her fists were clenched. They stared at each other.

"Why are you causing trouble in my village?" He took off his mask. Gaara.


	11. Pallid Obscurity

"_Why are you causing trouble in my village?" He took off his mask. Gaara._

* * *

Hannah wished for death as she stared in wide eyed horror at the leader of Suna. "I-I didn't mean to cause trouble," she stuttered, sounding more feminine than she'd intended. 

"What were you doing?" His aqua marine eyes were piercing. Hannah cursed their brightness.

She lowered her head, staring fondly at the dirt to her left. "I-I was howling a-at the moon." Hannah kept her voice girly-shy. For once she was glad she stuttered when embarrassed.

Gaara took several steps forward, causing the wary American to press her backside against the wall. He stood before her, tight black ANBU suit and all. Naughty Hannah was having a fiesta. "Why were you howling at the moon?" he whispered, leaning forward so his eyes were level with hers.

_Too close! _Hannah was silently, repetitively screaming to herself inwardly.

"I-I-I-er….depressed," squeaked the flustered American. Her face was a brilliant shade of scarlet as smoke streamed from her ears all due to embarrassment.

"What is your name?" Gaara whispered in a way that made Hannah think of dirty things.

_Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap! Er, uh… _"Pallid Obscurity," she squealed in a high pitch tone, using her username for websites.

"Pallid Obscurity," Gaara repeated slowly, taking in her features. Hannah trembled under his gaze. _What is he up to?_ "You may refer to me as Obsidian Luminosity."

_Obsidian Luminosity. Exact opposites. _"You may leave, Pallid Obscurity," the Kazekage said, gesturing toward the direction she had been creeping.

"A-Arigatou, Obsidian Luminosity," Hannah thanked him as Gaara replaced his fox mask back on his face. _Foxy, _purred Naughty Hannah. The American decided, since she was screwed anyway, to ask Gaara, "Obsidian Luminosity, p-please teach me how to dance."

_Now he knows I'm one of the two hundred competing for his hand in marriage. _

Lifting her hand, Obsidian Luminosity kissed her knuckles. "Only if you show up at the Hot Springs every night until the night before the first round."

Blushing a hundred shades of red, Pallid Obscurity wordlessly nodded and ran down the alley.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Gaara stared after the fleeting girl. Pallid Obscurity was quick. She was thin, shy, beautiful, curvy, and one of his potential brides.

_She had blue eyes like Uzumaki, _the Kazekage mused. _This is the howler. The depressed one who cries to the moon._

Obsidian Luminosity jumped on the roof top and signaled the ANBU. They encircled him.

"Did you find Howl?" That was their nickname for the target.

"Yes, she is harmless. Did you capture the other?" Gaara asked.

"No. Unfortunately, the target vanished," a cat-faced female reported bitterly. "That one is _not _harmless."

The Kazekage stiffened. "What happened?" he asked tersely.

"A contender was murdered. Naestis, the Egyptian representative of the twenty, had her throat slit in her sleep. The assassin left no clues."

_This is the same murderer who attempted to kill Hannah, _Gaara estimated. _She wants to kill off the competition. _

"Inquire if the other nineteen are trained. If not, train them. I want one ANBU member shadowing the nineteen around the clock. Members may take shifts. Create a password or gesture to avoid imposters," Gaara ordered. "Dismissed."

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah woke up to something persistently shaking her shoulder. Groaning, she peeped open an eye to see a masked person hovering over her.

The American fell out of the bed, too surprised to yelp. _Ksoh, they know! _

"Wh-what do you want?" Hannah croaked.

"I am to train you, Hannah, number seven." The ANBU member gave a quick bow. "Come with me. Now."

"It's four in the morning!" The American shouted as quietly as she could without waking Maite- an interesting feat.

"You have several hours of training to accomplish today," she said coldly. "Hurry up."

Hannah hurried as if she were late for school. It was a montage of getting on clothes, rushing into the bathroom, eating, brushing hair, brushing teeth, and plain running around with 'All Star' by Smash Mouth in the background.

The ANBU female dragged her to a hotel named Golden Geysers. Hannah found herself in one of the fanciest, penthouse-like rooms, gaping.

"Shut up and listen up," ordered the rough female, throwing Hannah onto a comfy white futon. "Chakra is the energy required by a ninja to perform ninja arts and techniques called Jutsu. Chakra is produced within the body by the combination of two elements:"

A chart with a person spewing fire with a word bubble and the Sprite logo tattooed on their belly popped up out of nowhere.

"Physical energy drawn from the body's cells and spiritual/mental energy that is acquired through much training and meditation."

The chart vanished. Another screen with a ninja with his hands twisted appeared.

"Seals, known as special hand signs, transfer Chakra into specific Jutsu. Jutsu can be categorized into 5 major elements: lightning, wind, fire, earth, and water. Depending on the Jutsu, the type and quantity of Chakra used differentiates," lectured the professional.

"On to ranks. There are five ranks. Academy students enroll in the Ninja Academy to learn fundamental techniques and philosophies mandatory to become a ninja. When they graduate, Genin are akin to apprentice ninjas."

Another picture popped up.

"In groups of three man cells led by an elite Jonin, the Jonin trains his students. Genin usually are given menial, routine missions. Upon completion of a taxing three part exam and judged worthy, Chunins are able to accomplish solo missions and lead other teams."

Hannah wasn't surprised to see the next chart pop up. She listened intently.

"Jonin- privileged, exceedingly skilled ninja. They are sent on the riskiest missions. A Jonin is regarded strong enough to instruct a team of three Genin. Then is the Kage. Highest status among ninja, Kage is reserved for the leader of the ninja village. The leader has achieved the highest levels of skill and wisdom."

Hannah jumped as the ANBU female snapped the chart shut. She didn't seem pleased about coaching the American.

"Show me your skills," she demanded.

"Al-alright," Hannah sighed, positive she wouldn't get a hit.

She cleared her mind with a deep exhale and charged. Just as she predicted, Hannah couldn't land a blow on the superior ninja. She got close a few times or almost nailed the ANBU female who moved just in time.

Hannah dropped into a crouch and swung one leg out as she spun. The female jumped in the air, flipped and landed with catlike grace. _I'm so worked over, up the creek, screwed. _

"Stop," she commanded, holding up a palm. For a moment, Hannah thought of Barbie.

"You are not a complete waste," she sighed wearily, giving her protégé a second glance over. Hannah stiffened. "Quick reflexes, basic taijutsu knowledge, sharp eye, and has a brain. Although, stiff form, weak blows, and no Jutsus."

The American noted the light blue hair. It seemed familiar. "Do I know you?" Hannah asked, squinting as though X-ray vision would suddenly be granted to her. "What is your name?"

"Yuri, the manager of the paint shop."

* * *

I thank the story Pallid Obscurity by **supplicatory.dark.horse.** or I would never have thought of the name Pallid Obscurity or the opposite Obsidian Luminosity.

Arigatou- thank you


	12. More Yuri 'Goodness' and Late!

"_Do I know you?" Hannah asked, squinting as though X-ray vision would suddenly be granted to her. "What is your name?"_

"_Yuri, the manager of the paint shop." _

* * *

Hannah stepped out of the cold shower, sore and exhausted. Her shirt was a blue tank top with mesh fish net sleeves covering her shoulders. She wore baggy army green cargo pants with chains. 

_Who would have thought my boss was such a sadist? _Hannah reflected, wincing at the all too fresh memory of Yuri's arduous exercise. Her muscles felt like they had run across the desert to find an oasis, only to discover it was a mirage.

The American ventured downstairs to unearth food from cupboards and the refrigerator. She discovered a variation of berries, different cheeses, fruit, vegetables, eggs, grain porridge, bread, salt, water, pepper, mustard, ketchup, soups, and chicken.

Hannah's stomach was impressed.

She ate more than a football team after the Superbowl. The American polished off a slice of toast when a preppy voice said rather loudly, "I mean _no_ manners. She eats like a _pig_. It's a wonder she has a figure."

Hannah turned in her seat to see Rin Nikomedes conversing with Chika Ayame in the next room, glancing her way. Chika's lips moved but the American missed what she was saying.

"Oh poo, she isn't pretty. She's _hideous_. Look at those horrendous pants, if they can even be called those. Not a shred of fashion taste," Rin sniffed.

"Rin, you're so pretty," Hannah complimented sweetly.

"Why, thank you-" Rin began happily, straightening the wrinkles in her clothes.

"Pretty _ugly_," Hannah snorted, standing to set her dish in the sink.

Rin's light colored face blotched. "You think you're funny Anna-"

"Ha ha," she interrupted.

The blotch darkened. "But you're as funny as a pain in the ass."

"That's pretty funny," Hannah admitted, "but not as funny as your face." In America, insults and comebacks were common as cellphones, iPods, and technology. It wasn't hard for her to volley an insult.

Rin flashed Hannah the bird.

"When, where, and how hard?" The American purred.

Rin recoiled in horror and Hannah snorted. "You wish."

Chika's lips were trembling upward and she stumbled out of the room quickly to laugh in peace. Rin stood in all her towering pink glory, standing Hannah up almost nose to nose.

"All's fair in love and war," she hissed.

"Love _is_ war, you idiot," Hannah said with disdain, taking a step away from angry Barbie. "What makes you think Gaara will love you? Seriously?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Rin sighed with hearts in her eyes.

"Fonder of what? Your absence?" Hannah muttered. Rin heard and a pulsing anger mark appeared on her forehead.

The American patted her shoulder. "Little things please little minds. Now excuse me, 'I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.'" Hannah walked away with Shakespeare as her victory card.

"You-You little disgusting bitch!" screeched Rin, beginning to go bananas.

Hannah only smiled. "If the shoe fits-"

"Don't you _dare_."

"Wear it," Hannah finished with deliberate slowness.

"I'm going to get you, Anna!" Rin screamed, face red.

"No time like the present," the American smirked, jumping aside as Rin charged, tripping over her outstretched foot, and careened into the table.

Blond hair sticking up everywhere and clothes wrinkled, Rin rushed again, shouting, "Don't give yourself airs!"

Hannah caught the fist to her eye and fell back. Rin was about to fall on the American with her elbow aimed for the stomach, but Hannah kicked the spoiled preppy in the shin before accidentally kicking her breast.

The two had a long row before it ended with Rin straddling Hannah while banging her head on the tile. Both had cuts, bruises, scratches, missing pieces of hair, and were bleeding slightly.

"I. Have. An. Ace. Up. My. Sleeve. For. My. Gaara!" Rin said, emphasizing each word with a downward thrust of her arm, causing Hannah's face to kiss the floor.

Hannah pinched Rin's thigh hard. The preppy shrieked and the American scrambled up. Rin fell back on the floor. Hannah delivered one last gratifying punch to Rin's nose. It crunched.

Hannah spat in the wailing wimp's face before staggering upstairs. Everything was light and hazy, tinged with blood and anger. Hime Maite materialized at the top of the staircase with a tight, concerned expression.

"Where you and Rin fighting?" she gasped, supporting Hannah. "What happened?"

"She acted in cold blood," the triumphant American coughed vaguely, feeling her ribs ache. "We have a bone to pick with each other. The bitter pill to swallow is that she lives here with us." Right now she felt like speaking with idioms.

Maite used her Chakra to lessen Hannah's tender ribs and injuries. The American thanked her and promptly went out like a light.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah bolted up, wide awake. _What time is it? _She mentally panicked and whirled around to find the alarm clock, knocking it over in the process. Chewing on her bottom lip and cursing softly, Hannah saw it was 7:30.

The American suddenly realized that an ANBU member had been assigned to watch her twenty-four seven, and paused. _How to lose a ninja better than you?_

An epiphany smacked Hannah upside the head. Dress as Maite, lie about visiting Kankuro, dance with Obsidian Luminosity, swing by and say 'hi' to the puppet master, and come back home. It was foolproof.

_But what if the hime has a personal guard?_

Hannah chewed on her lip. _Oh forget the personal guard, I have four days to learn how to dance! I'll just have to play my cards close to my chest. _

Another scheme came to mind. "Hey, Maite," Hannah called. Hime-sama rushed up the stairs. "What?" she asked breathlessly, wide-eyed.

"Do you want to say 'hello' to your potential groom?" the sly American inquired.

The teal-haired royal's cheeks flushed. "I-I guess."

"I'll go with you. For moral support," Hannah offered. _I got a royal flush! I win. _

Maite dove forward and grabbed her friend's hands, shaking them vigorously. "Arigatou! Oh, arigatou, Anna-chan! I won't forget this!"

_Please do, _Hannah hoped silently as Maite hurried to get dressed. The American calmly slipped on black pants and onyx combat boots, wearing a green tank top as her royal friend zoomed around the room in a comical paranoia.

"Okay, enough primping," Hannah said with some annoyance. "You don't have to goose yourself up for a guy. If he doesn't like you for you, forget the jerk and move on."

"H-hai," Maite agreed. "What is the backpack for?"

"Just in case either of us gets cold, I'm bringing jackets." Hannah had her lines down cold. In truth, it was the rest of her costume. She prayed she wasn't too late.

They went to the house the Sand siblings shared without being accosted. Maite and Hannah stood before the door. The princess was glancing around nervously.

"I'll leave you two alone so you don't have to worry about saying anything awkward," Hannah reassured her. "Just get to know each other for two hours and I'll be in this vicinity. Just call my name if you need me."

Maite opened her mouth to speak but Hannah pounded on the door and dashed behind some bushes that happened to be there. The princess paled as the door opened. Then turned bright, flaming red.

Kankuro wore a deep purple and black yukata with a scarlet sash girding his waist. He was without face paint and puppets. Without either, Kankuro astonishingly resembled his dead father, the previous Kazekage. He also looked a lot more…handsome.

Despite he was the spitting image, Hannah guessed Kankuro hated seeing his father's face and hid it under paint.

The puppet master ran a hand through his brown, spiky hair, a frown on his face as he stared down at the blushing princess. Maite did the only thing a true princess would- she fainted.

Kankuro, alarmed, caught her and hoisted her up bridal style. Hannah smiled as the door closed.

The American transformed into Pallid Obscurity, bandaging her wig down because of her black eye. Pallid Obscurity stuffed the backpack under the brush and took off in the shadows carefully, expecting Obsidian Luminosity to be there.

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own Shakespeare or his quote.

Arigatou- thank you

Hai- yes

Iie- no


	13. Moonlight Shadow

He waited, hidden in the mist of the hot springs. Obsidian Luminosity wasn't one to worry, and yet he was worrying. This second meeting with Pallid Obscurity was an amusing game to him.

Perhaps in the game, he could uncover her true identity.

So far, Gaara had to admit there wasn't much to hate about the phantom girl, other than her damned aloofness, timidity, and vague information. Pallid was obviously talented at warding personal questions away.

The red head had donned a new mask just for the meetings with her. It was painted all black with wide open eye slits for his aqua marine eyes to peer out. He just hoped she would be here to see it.

The Kazekage had been waiting roughly an hour, but Pallid's prowling hours were closer to midnight or witching hour.

His eyes focused on a curvaceous figure's outline appearing in the mist. It was her.

Gaara was surprised and disturbed to find one of her blue orbs hidden beneath a bandage. "What happened?" he demanded immediately, taking an impulsive step forward.

Pallid Obscurity froze and stammered, "A-a d-d-disagreement."

And he was a flying monkey.

Without words, Pallid Obscurity was challenging him. The rules were simplistic:

Keep your life a secret. The one who opened up first lost. No judges, no referees, and all methods were at their disposal.

Both were extremely childish, insanely competitive, and hated losing.

"Hime-sama," he addressed her with a slight smirk, holding out his hand.

The showing parts of her skin –forehead, around eyes- turned pinkish. "Y-you don't have to address me as a p-princess, Obsidian."

"It is my pleasure. Please refer to me as Ouji-sama," Gaara said in a mocking manner.

Pallid's enchanting blue eyes lit with amusement. "Hai, Ouji-sama." She shyly placed her hand on his, almost pulling back.

Sending her a sardonic glance with his eyes, the Kazekage closed his hand on hers gently and pressed the gloved hand to his lips. Her face became bright red and smoke whistled from her ears in smoke stacks.

Gaara's smirk was concealed by the black mask. Seeing her blush was becoming a hobby of his. The red haired nin didn't know why, but it amused him. Few things did.

"Er…sh-sh-should we…eh…g-get st-started?" Hime-sama seemed to have trouble stranding a sentence together. Gaara smiled softly. Since when had teasing become so fun?

He bowed and she bowed in reply. Pallid Obscurity awkwardly placed her free hand on his shoulder and his face burned faintly as his hand touched her waist above her hip. Gaara began to teach her the steps for the waltz.

She stared down at her feet constantly to ensure she didn't mess up too many times. Hime-sama was a horrible waltzer. Gaara kept a straight face as she pounded his toes into numbness with her heavy-duty combat boots.

Inwardly, however, Obsidian Luminosity was describing the rainbow in a colorful assortment of adjective word choice.

"Good," he complimented as Pallid managed not to step on his poor toes as much. She flushed and stepped on them again by accident.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah was speechless when the Kazekage gave her a caustic glance with his aqua marine eyes gleaming and kissed her hand.

[Insert something similar to: WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT?! AND WHY IS HE LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! IS HE ON MEDS!? ANY FANGIRLS WATCHING ARE GOING TO MURDER ME! AAAAHHHH!! Insert swear strand of choice

"Er…sh-sh-should we…eh…g-get st-started?" Hannah cursed herself and her tongue-tied mouth. Obsidian Luminosity was probably enjoying her torment.

He bowed and she bowed in reply. The American uneasily placed her free hand on his shoulder and her cheeks burned as his hand touched her waist above her hip. Gaara began to teach her the steps for the waltz.

She stared down at her feet constantly to ensure she didn't mess up _too_ many times. To his credit, when she did accidentally stomp on his poor toesies, Ouji-sama gave no outward sign of his agony.

Then again, it was difficult to tell with the mask.

It was ornately carved and painted black. His aqua marine eyes contrasted with the mask dramatically. Hannah had difficulty preventing her green-grey eyes from traveling to the bright ones, lest she be lost in them forever.

"Am I doing okay?" Hannah asked quietly, tilting her head up.

He gave a slight nod. As time passed, waltzing was a bit fun. She tread on his feet once every few minutes. They moved on to Latin Swing. Hannah quickly mastered it. The Salsa, on the other hand, was a different matter.

The Salsa happened to involve no personal space, the female's waist getting touched occasionally, and much spinning/rotating. It was the Short-Stride.

"How long have we been practicing, Obsidian Luminosity?" Pallid Obscurity asked, separating from him. Where he had made contact with her tingled. Hannah wondered if that was normal.

"Almost two hours," he answered.

Hannah cursed inwardly. She took several steps back until she was almost enveloped by the mist. Tilting her head back, Pallid gave a short, choppy good-bye howl. Ouji-sama answered with his own long call as she rushed back to the Sand siblings' house.

The American crept along the buildings in the shadows, racing on the balls of her feet. She slipped behind the foliage, shedding her mask, contacts, sweatshirt, scarf, and bandages. Hannah unceremoniously stuffed them into the bag, zipping it up quickly as the front door opened.

Maite came out with her head bowed and a small, triumphant smile on her face. Kankuro was smiling lopsidedly too as he shut the door.

"Anna," Hime of Hidden Grass called softly. She sounded excited.

"Yeah?" The American emerged from the shrubbery with the backpack shouldered.

"I had the best time of my life. Arigatou for suggesting I visit him. I am in your debt." Hannah cleared her throat as Maite gave her a respectful bow.

"Yukata (I'm so glad)," Hannah coughed.

Her friend's face turned red, thinking of the outfit he was wearing. "I didn't do anything, Anna! I would never do that!"

Said Hannah arched a dubious eyebrow. "Are you _sure_ about that?"

* * *

Hime- princess

Ouji- prince

Yukata- I'm so glad


	14. Round 1

So was the routine for the next four days before the competition: training with Yuri, verbal sparring with Rin, and dancing with Obsidian Luminosity.

The day of the first round, Rin confronted her. Hannah glanced up from her novel in surprise to find Rin glaring down at her with her arms folded. "Stop trying to overpower me. And stop trying to become me. It will never happen."

Hannah glanced down at her pink shirt. "I had nothing else to wear, to my eternal dismay. Why in the name of all that's sweet and addictive would I want to become _you_? Ugh, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."

Rin fumed and raged. "You know what I mean! Ever since I came here you've been nasty to me when I did nothing to you, acting like you're better than me! It's not true. I mean" she gestured toward her low cut clothing and my baggy clothing "you're just nothing."

Hannah was cut deep, but she masked it well. "You wish. You're just like every other obsessive, possessive jealous fangirl who can't get her way. By the way, in America, Barbie's get their heads popped off or have their bodies mutilated."

Rin just left the house with a slam of the door.

The American's stomach spoke. She was going to buy some _real_ food from the market.

The other three housemates were under the impression to be thin meant a diet of bread, watery soup, dried fruits, drier vegetables, and water. No meats. No sugar. Nothing that tasted remotely delicious or appetite-whetting.

She had practically starved. Hannah didn't think she was a rabbit- living only on all that was greenery and weeds.

As the American strode to the marketplace she wondered why Gaara was teaching her dance lessons.

_He wants to be your friend._

Uh huh. Whatever.

_He disguised himself to become a 'proper' friend so he could be himself._

Shut up. You mean the evil, smirking diabolical genius?

_It's true. You know it is._

The evil genius part? Yes, of course. But why would he pick me, of all people, to be his friend? He's the friggin' Kazekage with a zillion fangirls!

_Exactly why. He doesn't want fangirls. _

Then explain: why me? Why not some nice little soul who adores him beyond all reason? Why the masked, depressed American loaded with sarcasm? Eh?

There was no reply to that. Suddenly Hannah realized she had been arguing with herself. _Oh no. Everyone is a little insane because we all talk to ourselves. It's when we start answering that we're in trouble. _

"I'm in trouble," she sighed, buying her purchased condiments. Hannah ate the grilled steak with relish as the scent wafted through the household. Maite and Chika appeared, staring longingly at the forbidden non-diet food.

Hannah offered them each a plate. "You know, a little meat on your bones won't kill you two," she teased. "Don't disappear on me."

"About the ball, I have this real great idea. Do you want to hear it?" Maite asked eagerly, switching glimpses between her housemates.

"Nope," Hannah said.

Maite's bottom lip stuck out. "I'm going to tell you anyway." All three of them smiled. The American relished in her strangely close relationship with her competitors. Companionship was awesome.

"This will be our Itinerary- practice poise by balancing a full bucket of water on your head for about half an hour. Then review the dance moves until it is reasonable, which we shall spend two hours on. Next, return to our room, where I will train you two in proper etiquette as much as I can for three hours. Finally, I will dress and cosmetize you two to beautify your looks," Maite finished with an excited squeal.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah felt naked. She wasn't _really_ naked. She was wearing clothes that were moderately decent. The American took several deep breaths. _I'm strong. I can deal. Other Americans dress like this all the time…Yeah, prostitute style._

Although Maite wore a gown with high neck, sleeves, and all, when it came to dressing others, the Hime had disturbing tastes similar to Rin's, except the pink obsession. And not quite so unashamed.

When she, Chika, and Maite entered the large ballroom, Hannah decided she was dressed as decently and modestly as a nun in extreme contrast to the other outfits of over two hundred female competitors.

Seriously!

Besides, Maite who had moved off to meet Kankuro because she wasn't involved in this mess.

The others were…to her eye- disgusting, desperate, and…

The Kazekage entered. There was a Domino effect. Women screamed with hearts in their eyes, before swooning and passing out in order. It was like the wave. Chika, Hannah, and a few others remained on their feet as the other one-hundred-and-something stood up.

Kankuro had entered and was standing by Maite. The American wished her luck.

If Hannah had ever wanted to faint in her life, it was now. She would have fallen stone cold –not dead- that particular moment.

Hannah compulsively tugged at her spaghetti strap, moss green mermaid dress. Sewn in random spots were teal sequins. The American fingered the silver tear drop necklace Maite had lent to her, along with a matching pair of liquid silver tear drop dangly earrings.

Many songs played; some did twice. Hannah recognized: 'Hanging By a Moment' by Lifehouse, 'Bad Boy' by Cascada, 'Always in Forever' by Donna Lewis, 'Dirty Little Secret' by The All-American Rejects, 'Roses Are Red' by Aqua, 'Just the Girl' by Click 5, the morose and energetic versions of 'Listen to Your Heart' by D.H.T., 'Barbie Girl' by Aqua, 'A Thousand Miles' and other varieties of songs.

Hannah swallowed as she witnessed a pair of shinobi bodily haul a wailing loser out of the building. Those who didn't win left Suna immediately.

"I can't do this," she groaned, twisting her hands anxiously. The numbers had been cut down drastically so far.

Hannah bit her lip as she observed Gaara and Chika dancing. Chika passed to the next round.

Hannah's insides were split. Half of her wanted to run, screaming, to the other side of the world; the other half grumbled to hurry up and get it over with.

She broke out in a cold sweat as she walked toward the handsomely dressed Kazekage, who wore his normal outfit. Her heels clicked on the tile, causing her to inwardly flinch at the loudness. Hundreds of eyes were glued on Hannah.

She was going to be ill.

The Kazekage offered his hand. She accepted. He positioned his other hand on her waist. The American placed her hand on his shoulder. They began to dance to the song 'Hanging By A Moment' by Lifehouse.

Hannah didn't mess up too much. She only tread on Gaara's toes fifteen times and accidentally elbowed his stomach in the Latin Swing. Obsidian Luminosity passed her.

The Mai was the last dance to narrow down the large number of competitors. Gaara, Kankuro, and Temari (in a wheelchair with Shikamaru close by) would be judging. Mai was based mainly on grace and complexity.

She and Chika exchanged a small, shy smile of victory, both knowing they were far from winning. By the end of the first round, only one hundred girls remained.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

For her Mai, Hannah wore a crimson Japanese formal kimono with pink Sakura petals fluttering down from a blackened, twisted tree. 'Kids in America' was her song. The American spun, flourished, and danced with grace inspired by her patriotism for her homeland.

A stone face Gaara marked: 9.6

Purple-paint faced Kankuro: 9.2

Temari: 9.8

She passed.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

"Maite, I forgot to ask. What were you and Kankuro doing?" Hannah inquired as she, Chika, the hime, and unfortunately, Rin strode home.

The princess flushed. "We were speaking."

"About?" Chika prodded.

"Things…" squeaked the embarrassed monarch.

"That's vague enough," Hannah snorted, clapping her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Well?" Chika clapped her hand on Maite's other shoulder.

"He asked me to the upcoming ball."

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own 'Hanging By a Moment' by Lifehouse, 'Bad Boy' by Cascada, 'Always in Forever' by Donna Lewis, 'Dirty Little Secret' by The All-American Rejects, 'Roses Are Red' by Aqua, 'Just the Girl' by Click 5, the morose and energetic versions of 'Listen to Your Heart' by D.H.T., 'Barbie Girl' by Aqua, 'A Thousand Miles' by Vanessa Carlton, or 'Kids in America' 


	15. Ball 1

Hannah stood near the tables of food, hanging away from the thick crowd before her. At a request from Gaara and order from the Hime of the Village of Hidden Grass, she rigged up the largest building to appear more like a night club than a workout gymnasium.

The entire village was stuffed in the building.

Hannah couldn't help but remember, with a smile, the saying Frodo told Gandalf about Bilbo's 111th birthday party: '_Half the Shire's been invited, and the rest of them are turning up anyway_.'

The music blaring on the speakers was one of the songs on her playlist for tonight called 'Kiss Me' by Sixpence None Richer. Hannah momentarily spotted the poor girl-horded Kazekage waltzing with one of the hundred left over competitors.

Chika was dancing with Gaara with a soft smile on her face, brown eyes gleaming gently. Her long ebony hair had been braided and pulled up. She wore a mauve slim dress to accentuate her pale pink, curvy body. Hannah noted a little, subtle cleavage showing.

Hannah's finger ran over the rim of her grape juice in a wine glass that hadn't been touched by her lips. The American searched for the Hime of the Hidden Grass Village in the mass of transparent, expensive, glittery gowns.

Hannah spotted Maite without her mask on, revealing a pair of dark pink flushed lips and small delicate nose. The princess was a perfect porcelain doll in her mauve dress, swaying with her betrothed, Kankuro, who had been convinced to wear a tuxedo and no face paint.

The American had to admit they made a handsome pair.

Rin pushed past Hannah, nearly causing her to spill her drink. Barbie wore a pink dress that attacked poor male eyes with bulging breasts and strong hints of her thighs with high slits in her gown. Rin's coffee eyes blazed with jealousy as she downed a glass of sake. Her long magenta colored finger nails curled spitefully around another glass and shattered it.

Hannah kept a straight face, viewing the scene from the corner of her green-grey eye, as Rin cursed the stain on her dress and stomped off to the bathrooms.

The American sighed, feeling worthless. She couldn't help it.

Everywhere her eyes trained there was a reminder of how ugly she was compared to the beauty of every other competitor. '_You know that I'm just the kind of girl that feels so _**hurt** _and_ **smiles**.' And people wondered why she didn't come to parties…

Hannah smoothed out her own maroon dress. The sleeves were ruffles that hung off her shoulders connected to her dress by diamond pins. The top was a little more low cut that Hannah would have liked, but flashed no cleavage. It barely skimmed her petite figure, hinting at everything and giving away nothing.

Maite had let her borrow mascara, burgundy eye shadow, and cherry lipstick, applying a hint of rogue for a hint of a modest 'blush'.

Yet again she found herself feeling naked and hideous.

Hannah felt that the males who passed her and winked or smiled were being unnecessarily cruel. How dare they mock her unattractiveness? Rude, stupid men.

'_And so she will sit __**alone**__ and wait…_'

The American set her juice on the table with a sigh. Maybe she should go outside and breathe some cool, fresh air before her senses got too addled…

"Hey."

Hannah glanced up at a tall, muscular man with dark tan skin and amused gold eyes from behind a mass of auburn bangs. His lips were quirked in a light smirk. His tan hand was held out.

"Would you like to dance?"

The American's happy façade automatically came to her defense, friendly smile and all. Hannah found her hand in his. "I'd be glad to," her disgustingly flirtatious voice gushed.

Too late. Her senses were addled.

'_Someone kill me_,' Hannah screamed mentally as the stranger led her away from her solace and into the mass of bodies. His grip was firm yet gentle on her hand.

He paused in the middle of a cluster of females.

Hannah blinked. "Aren't we going to dance?"

"Let's wait for the next song, impatient one," he chuckled.

Her face reddened and the American immediately felt stupid for making such a careless comment. '_Shoot me now_,' Hannah inwardly whimpered as she heard a familiar song from her playlist pop up:

'_I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me. I still feel your touch in my dreams. Forgive me my weakness, but I don't know why, without you it's hard to survive…Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling and every time we kiss, I swear I could fly. Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last, need you by my side.'_

Hannah felt herself lost in the fast beat, twirling with a genuine energy. Her eyes must have been playing tricks in the white strobe light. For a moment, she thought she had been dancing with Obsidian Luminosity, her Ouija-sama.

'_Cause every time we touch, I feel the static and every time we kiss, I reach for the sky. Can't you hear my heart beat so? I can't let you go, want you in my life.'_

"You look pretty," the tan male blurted out, and Hannah nearly slipped.

"E-excuse me?"

His face flushed. "I didn't mean any offense- I mean, that dress compliments your figure and you look…" he coughed, searching for the right word. "Healthy."

Hannah arched an eyebrow. "Are you insinuating I'm _fat_?"

"No," he burst out loudly, causing several heads to turn. "You have a kawaii (cute) blush on your face" –Hannah's face flushed deeper- "and your cosmetics were well done," he said in a lowered tone.

"Are you drunk?" Normal men didn't go around complimenting women unless they expected a reward- usually a kiss or time in bed.

"Pardon?"

"What do you want?" Hannah made her point crystal clear.

Her dancing partner's gold eyes were wide with disbelief and his auburn eyebrows were raised. "Nothing but the pleasure of your company," he answered.

"You're an Ouji-sama, aren't you?"

"How can you tell?"

"Your manners," the American replied dryly.

The prince frowned. "I didn't know I was so obvious."

Hannah's grin reappeared. "Only to those that have half a brain."

"Be nice," the prince whispered, but he was smirking. "My name is Rako Hui."

'_So his last name means intelligent and wise…I wonder how true that is…_'

Rako flashed her a charming smile-smirk. "What is your name?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, really?"

"Why'd you want to know?"

"I would like to know who keeps throwing excellent comebacks at me!"

Hannah ignored the flattery. "I'll tell you."

"Really?" He arched an eyebrow.

"No." Hannah slyly spun herself away from Rako and through a narrow opening of fangirls before it closed on the prince. She smirked and strode back into her isolated corner.

The American swooped up her glass of grape juice, taking a triumphant sip.

"Why won't you tell me anything about yourself?" an annoyed voice asked at her shoulder.

Rako, arms crossed, had materialized at her side, leaning against the wall as he glared down at her. He wore black robes with golden embroidery. Hannah admitted he was a looker in them.

"We met five minutes ago- that's _seriously_ enough to get to know me."

"Just finish dancing with me and quit being so stubborn," he gestured toward the thinning dance floor. People in Suna went to bed earlier than Americans, who went home the next morning.

"Why?"

"I have a reputation. If someone notices that a girl snubbed me, my reputation will be tainted," Rako explained with a pained expression.

Hannah burst out laughing. "Like you have a reputation to ruin!"

Rako muttered something darkly as Hannah carefully wiped away a tear of mirth so she didn't smear the eye shadow and resemble a bloody-eyed panda.

'_Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling and every time we kiss, I swear I could fly. Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last, need you by me side. Cause every time we touch, I feel the static and every time we kiss, I reach for the sky. Can't you hear my heart beat so? I can't let you go, want you in my life.'_

Hannah dashed out into the crowd with a magnificent twirl, arms outstretched with a broad smile on her face. She would show these pathetic pansies how Americans danced. Her body picked up the quick beat of the music with ease. It felt as though she was flying away from her body, free of restraints.

Hannah danced her way up from the ground, walked it out, pop-lock-and-dropped-it, and had fun with her erotic styles. The American panted slightly as the song ended, bursting with energy.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Rako watched the mysterious, beautiful woman dance with his mouth shaped in an incredulous 'O.' The prince was unable to keep his amber eyes off her teasing figure as she changed steps, her hair trailing behind her, her face lit with such mischief and glee, she was the most entrancing thing he'd ever seen in his life.

She was part of the music, knew every note, every beat before and as it was played…

The wild music suddenly halted and she froze in the middle of a move. Everyone had frozen with her, breathless and shocked.

The woman suddenly blushed and demurely crept back into her corner, trying to escape the eyes of Suna.

'_So she isn't all tough_,' Rako smirked, amused. He was transfixed by the feral movements and gorgeous grace of her. _'A shy little being waiting patiently for her chance in the spot light, but never getting the chance, all the while putting up with the temptation to burst into the spotlight and snatch it away forever.'_

The prince wanted to hold her in his arms forever and enjoy the warmth radiating off her skin. '_What would she look like in lace?_' he wondered, eyeing her.

'_Ooooh…Naughty Rako,' _he berated himself.

"What do I owe you for that dance?" he purred, teasing her. Rako felt silent amusement as her face became bright red and her hair hid her face. He smiled- a rare treat.

"I…" Rako stopped smiling, his psychic senses warning him that he'd gone a bit too far.

"I have to go," she made up desperately, green-grey eyes clouded.

Rako paled. The prince didn't want his only source of amusement at the party to leave. He might never find her again! "Now? Where? Why?" He gently grabbed her shoulders as she backed away to leave, closing the gap slowly.

"H-home," she stammered, staring up into his eyes with fear. Rako could see, in her eyes, barriers were rising quickly. The moment was decaying too fast.

"Why can't you stay?" he demanded. He was grasping at shards.

"I-I'm exhausted."

"Please stay," Rako whispered, letting her shoulders go.

She bit her lip, eyes darting from the door to the floor near his feet. Rako was stunned when she took a step closer to him. She was so close…her lips were deliciously close…

Rako was held when she held the side of his face with a hand. The prince felt his breath hitch. His cheeks colored. "Gomen nasai, but I can't," she murmured and disappeared through the door.

The prince touched his flaming cheek in pure disbelief. He was so out of it, he didn't feel the killer aura behind him.

When he finally turned around, Rako saw a very ticked betrothed princess of his with blazing orange eyes and purple hair.

"RAKO HUI!" she screamed, reeling back her fist.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah ran as fast as fear would lend to her heels. She stumbled and fell against a wall, gasping for air, feeling ill with trepidation. It disturbed her how Hannah felt an underlying connection with the prince, as though she already knew him.

The American was drawn to him by an innate fondness, not love or lust. When she noticed this, Hannah realized she had to escape his presence. It wasn't a sexual attraction…just like she had known him a long time ago, and his presence soothed over her fears and comforted her anxieties.

Hannah had no clue _why_.

She was so confused.

Thankfully, the prince hadn't trailed after her.

Hannah entered the house in a flurry of red, slamming and locking the door, rushing upstairs. She retreated into the bathroom and kicked off her bothersome high heels. Tears ran down her cheeks as the American clenched the sink edges.

Her red eye shadow bled where her tears flowed.

'_Eyes stained with crimson tears, a drop for all my deepest fears.' _

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own quote from LOTR movie or book, 'Kiss Me' by Sixpence None Richer, 'Everytime We Touch' by CASCADA, or the little quotes 

Kawaii- cute

Gomen nasai- I'm sorry (polite)


	16. Rumors of Napoleon

Gaara slept well that night. He slept so deeply that he didn't even stir when Kankuro banged pots over his head. In his dreams he was dancing…the faces of the girls swam before him in the flashing colored lights, always blending from one to the next…

There she was.

Enshrouded in shadow, dancing seductively, hypnotically, wildly was Pallid Obscurity. He couldn't tear his aqua marine eyes from her. She was amazing. Her body arched and bent in painful yet breath-taking moves Gaara didn't know were possible.

And she was wearing his favorite color- red.

Did she know it was his favorite color?

The enticing music stopped and the Kazekage, in a daze, began to lurch forward. His body was so heavy. Why was it difficult to move? Pallid Obscurity had always been quick, Gaara knew, but she was dissolving into one of the crowd. The red head could see the chaste blush glowing on her cheeks and how her hair covered her downcast face.

His Hime-sama was embarrassed and had low self esteem. She didn't like dancing before others.

He wanted to grab her wrist, make everyone disappear, and ask her why. Why was she so shy? Why was she doubtful of her abilities? Pallid Obscurity had melted into the gray of women with plastered smiles and greed shining in their eyes.

Yet Obsidian Luminosity knew she was watching him from behind the barrier.

One day, he vowed, he would break that barrier and every other obstacle Pallid Obscurity threw in his way to deter him from finding out the truth.

Gaara opened his eyes and winced at the excruciating stems of pain shooting up his legs. He gave himself a while off from his office and went into a massage parlor in the guise of an old man. The Kazekage was glad to see the massager would be a male.

The red head closed his eyes and relaxed as the man named Tamaki smeared lotion on his swollen legs.

"Your legs took a beating," the blond whistled, digging his thumb into a particularly tense muscle. Gaara gritted his teeth. "Those women are vicious dancers, aren't they Kazekage-sama?"

In no mood to answer verbally, said Kazekage only nodded stiffly.

"I wouldn't want to be in your boots for all the money in the world." Neither did Gaara. "Even with all those beautiful women practically dropping all around you. So, do you have a favorite gal, sir?" Tamaki asked.

"No." Except Pallid Obscurity, whom Gaara was pleased had passed the first round.

"There's the lovely lady Rin. You could always…" began Tamaki.

"Don't even go there," interrupted Gaara, glancing around for one of the rabidest competitors. Saying her name was a taboo. The Kazekage swore she would show up any second.

"Ah, too spirited for your likes? That knocks off most of the women…" He was still trying to guess Gaara's favorite? "About ninety of 'em."

"Actually, ninety one," Tamaki corrected himself, "considering Hime Maite of the Hidden Village of Grass is betrothed to your brother, the puppeteer. That bloke has quite a few nasty knots in his shoulder."

The blond paused massaging and doused his hands in a bucket of water while glancing about furtively. Gaara observed him closely. Tamaki tiptoed back over and massaged the Kazekage's shoulders. He whispered in a barely audible tone, "Rumor has it there's a spy in Suna, feeding information to the Sound. You didn't hear it from me."

The Kazekage left the massage parlor in the guise of a young woman, disturbed. He found an ANBU member waiting in his office.

"Kazekage-sama, word has been spread Napoleon is about."

"Napoleon?" Gaara frowned. He had never heard of that name.

"A military genius, master of intelligence, deception, and the ability of knowing when to strike. He won many battles by attacking unsuspecting enemies by usage of spies to retrieve information about the opposing forces and hiding his own," the ANBU explained. "There has been a plethora of passing vessels in the name of Russia. We believe they mean to start a war."

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah narrowly dodged a kunai aimed for her shoulder.

"Faster!" barked Yuri, hurtling another deadly metal pointy object.

Gasping for breath, the American ignored the shruiken as it sliced into her forearm. Two droplets of blood splashed on the sand a few miles outside the village. Hannah kept her green-grey eyes focused on her ruthless trainer. One hand covered the wound.

"You must dodge _everything_. A mere _scratch_ could prove fatal." The paint shop owner clicked her tongue. "Dodging is the next round. You have two weeks to learn this important skill."

"With all due respect" -dodge- "boss, I'm tired from" -duck -"last night's enterprise. I'm in" -pirouette- "no mood or condition to be" -splits- "dodging sharp pointy objects."

Yuri snorted. "You're not in half as much pain as you think you are or could be experiencing. You are not tired, merely winded. Everything's only minor and temporary. The stronger you become, the easier everything will be. Time, practice, and patience."

She gestured toward a large and heavy looking set of knight's armor. "Put this on and follow me."

Hannah gaped at it as she slid on a thin sweatshirt and pants, touching the heated armor. "Are you _insane_? My skin will melt!"

"Its mind over matter," Yuri said dryly. "If you don't mind, then it doesn't matter, does it?"

Hannah huffed, something she'd been doing a lot today, and gingerly put on the armor. Yuri began to jog away. Feeling extremely stupid, Hannah forced her legs to move through the sand that had sunk up to her ankles.

The heat was sweltering and unbearable. Sweat poured down every available inch of her body as Hannah strained to move, the armor clanking in protest. By a quarter of a mile, the American was prepared to keel over. The armor had barely gotten lighter or any easier to carry around. Hannah stumbled and nearly fell over, catching herself. Her legs barely held the surplus weight, her arms dangled at her sides uselessly, and her chest felt constricted. _Stupid asthma._

Hannah's genius quickly learned the best way to deal with the constantly shifting dry mire-like material was to be in one place for as short a time as possible. It made the difference between getting stuck to her calves or running like the hounds of hell were after her.

Hannah created a quick beat pattern in her mind, using the rhythm of the 'Hampster Dance' over and over again in her mind until the American understood why the song made an excellent torture device. _Up, down, up, down, up, down, left, right, left, right, up, down, up…_

The American breathed in time to the beat. By repeating the annoying mantra, Hannah not only managed to accomplish moving in a less exhausting manner, she kept herself from getting stuck.

Her head began to spin from hyperventilation and Hannah swayed. She fell on her hands and knees, tossing her heated helmet out of spew range.

"What do you think you're doing? You've got two miles back to Sunakagure!"

Hannah gaped up at her Torturer, incredulous and unable to keep her head from lolling.

"I need a _break_!"

"In war, there are no such things as 'breaks.' Use your Chakra and it would be easier."

"Well, it's a very good thing we're not in a war, are we?" Hannah coughed. "And I have no clue _how_ to use my Chakra."

"I'll teach you tomorrow when we get back to Suna."

"You sound so certain," the American wheezed.

Yuri was incensed. "Don't you understand, dasai little girl?! I'm preparing you for situations _when you won't have any breaks_! Pamper yourself now and suffer later. Are you too thick-headed to understand?"

"I understand perfectly," Hannah croaked, throat dry.

"Then get up!"

"I can't," the American grunted, trying to stand. Her limbs objected vehemently, trembling violently. She fell backwards and, like a turtle, couldn't get back up. Hannah flailed her arms and limbs, tried to roll over, tried to sit up.

Yuri heaved a great sigh. "Young people are so selfish."

"I'm not _that_ selfish," Hannah protested, standing with help from her Torturer. She brushed and drained the sand that crept into her heavy armor. It was getting everywhere. Hannah suspected some hot sand had slipped into her bra.

Yuri's cheeks blotched an unattractive red. She appeared to be beside herself. Hannah uncomfortably wondered how the conversation had transformed from civilized to verbal war. She hated being yelled at and criticized.

Hannah had gotten _enough_ of that in her school years.

"You can't go through six hours of pain for your country, your people, who suffer _years_ to keep you safe? You can't go through days worth of torture to save the one you love, who you find dead? That isn't selfish?! You are one of the most selfish people I have ever met, Hannah Nephthis. If you aren't that selfish, _prove_ it."

Hannah didn't reply, stuffing her head into the helmet to hide her expression. Her heart had stopped and her throat was constricted with depression. _True, so true. _Wordlessly, Hannah began the long trek back to Suna.

Hannah felt her blood boiling and throbbing in her ears. Her veins prickled. _Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. So true. Self-centered. _

_Worthless. Understatement. _Chanted child's voices. _Retard. In the way. Good for nothing. Burden. Loser. Pathetic. Stupid. Careless. Annoying. Disappointment. Bitch._

_Sorry, _whispered a single female voice full of agony.

Hannah hated Yuri, hated how she spoke words that made her feel so shamed and worthless that she could only reply with anger. A pulsing roar peaked in her ears and she ran.

Hannah ran for all she was worth. She would show them. She wasn't worthless. She wasn't good for nothing, a burden, a loser, stupid…

Hannah reached the gates of Suna and purposefully crashed into a wall to halt her momentum. She ignored the guard's shouts of alarm as she fell back. The American was barely able to shed the immensely heavy armor.

_Someone put me out of my misery, _she thought, trembling so much she couldn't get up.

Until she heard laughing.

Hannah gaped at her Torturer, who was laughing. The American forced herself to stand, glaring at Yuri. "Keep laughing and see what happens," she challenged, clenching her fists.

It only made the ANBU member laugh harder from behind her animal mask. Hannah bent her knees, a heat wave of anger coursing through her.

Yuri waved her hand away as if shooing a fly. "Tell me, Hannah: how did your armor feel when you were running? How do you feel right now?"

Hannah's eyes widened and her mouth shifted to a stunned 'O.' She hadn't even noticed her armor. The mysterious energy- or Chakra- drained.

"Don't know how to use your Chakra," Yuri chortled, passing by Hannah, who stared at her Torturer in complete disbelief. Yuri gave the American's shoulder a playful swat. "I think I like you."

"What the bloody hell? This is unnatural," Hannah held her hands away from her.

"Unnatural?" Yuri fixed Hannah with a hard look. "This is the most natural thing in the world. Chakra is what your body_ really_ desires."

Hannah only grabbed her hair and yelled, beginning to run in circles. She was so lost.

Yuri laughed again, wiping a tear from her eye. "Yes, I think I like her," she decided, watching her protégé wail and run in mad circles as she tore at her hair.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah woke up from a two hour long nap after her shower and arduous exercise. Yuri warned her that Napoleon, a spy for Russia, was about. Jolted by surprise at the name and country, Hannah quickly pumped her Torturer full of information about the real Napoleon and the history of Russia.

Yuri, surprised and undoubtedly overwhelmed by the information, thanked her and had rushed off to inform the Kazekage.

Hannah switched on the only Mac in the house, researching everything she could find on espionage and spies. The printer spewed and belched papers.

The American, always fascinated with the art of spying, was interested to learn espionage involved infiltrating the place where the desired information was stored or the people who knew the information and pried it from them.

A spy was the person entrusted to obtain such secrets. A nickname was intelligence officer. Spies specialized in gathering, analyzing information, and providing advice to their organization or employer. Agents could be called moles or defectors.

Moles were recruited beforehand to spy on their own government and gain access to secrets. Defectors were hired after gaining access to the secrets.

Hannah studied methods of spying: wire-tapping…surveying electronic transmissions from cell phones, email, packages, and wireless transmissions…satellite surveillance…

Hannah started when she came across a rather important paragraph. The spy needed an _Agent handler, _someone who couriered information to the next stage. All Gaara needed to do was find the Agent handler and spy, their method of sending messages, and the asset could be frozen.

'_A person willing betray his country and become a spy is someone with emotional or stress problems. Such is not always the case.' _

A smirk passed over Hannah's face as a possible way to catch the assassin and spy, Napoleon, popped up on the glowing screen.

Hannah erased all traces of her googling, searching, and results, feeling evil.

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own the 'Hampter Dance'

Dasai- pathetic


	17. Black Ops and the Meltdown

He read over it again.

The plan seemed sound.

Yet he didn't like it.

He glanced up at Hannah with a severe frown. "I won't allow it."

"What?" She burst. Lowering her voice to a hiss, the American leaned forward so no one would over hear. "Kazekage-sama, it's the only lead you have."

"I won't let you risk your life and end up butchered," Gaara retorted.

"I won't get butchered if the plan works," Hannah protested. "The Black Bag should work, that is, if your ANBU can handle it."

The red head stiffened. "They can. Can you?"

"Then I don't see a problem. I get marks one or two in the open. Mark one or two arrives at the specified location. I say a code or perform a specific move. ANBU snag one or two of the marks, slip a black bag over their heads, and sedate them to avoid a ruckus," Hannah made a sound of annoyance. "Then poof to prison."

"What happens if you die?" Gaara arched a nonexistent eyebrow.

"That's the beauty of the Kuroi (black) Ops. You don't claim responsibility or it's shifted to another, a 'false flag.' You can do what you want with Kuroi Ops: use assassins, espionage, sabotage…" Hannah trailed off meaningfully.

"Only after you've learned the clone jutsu," Gaara conceded.

Hannah didn't press further. She knew when to stop. She was lucky he said 'yes.' There was a long silence in which they stood there before the window.

"Why you?" the Kazekage finally asked.

"The assassin wants me dead. Americans are famous and well-rounded with information. Napoleon might be interested in me as well," Hannah murmured, staring out at the city blanketed by a dust devil. "Have your office, lobby, and meeting room debugged quickly. We're probably being watched."

Gaara gave no indication he'd heard. "Arigatou." He breathed the word to her. Having a paranoid American around was what the Kazekage needed, someone jumpier than him. She was a real treasure.

"Itterasshai," he dismissed her.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah arrived home to find Rin cooking a monstrosity in the oven. She wrinkled her nose, blocking off the air passage flow from her nose- a talent she'd developed living with two smelly younger brothers.

"Were have you been?" Rin sneered.

"Seeing Kazekage-sama," Hannah sighed, smiling airily.

She stared the blonde who looked like she would have a major heart attack or seizure any second. It was _extremely_ gratifying to mess with Barbie's head.

"Mr. and Mrs. Nikomedes," Chika announced, entering the kitchen.

"Hey!" they protested.

"I was addressing you two like that because you two bicker like an old married couple," Chika giggled, ignoring the double glares. "By the way, Anna, another fanboy asked for you."

Hannah groaned. "Another one?"

Rin smirked. "You don't have nearly as many as I do."

"As if _I'd_ be interested in suitors," the American snorted.

"What was his name?" Maite asked, appearing from the living room with book in hand.

"Rako," Chika grinned.

Hannah groaned. The Ouji-sama from last night. She'd hoped he was a figment of the festival. Apparently not. Hannah sighed mentally. _So much for miracles…_

"Rin, the thing you're cooking is on fire."

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

So far she'd chased away every suitor with the obvious exception of thick-headed Rako. Two days left until round two, the dodging contest. The Ouji-sama of the Land of Earth, or Hidden Village Among the Stones was, to Hannah's horror, Rako.

He was betrothed to Chiharu, Hime of the Hidden Village in the Mist. It was a bad match and Hannah wondered what their parents had been on when they made that decision.

The American considered herself fortunate she was immune to male…'charms', yet Rako seemed determined to prove his manhood or affection by getting her on his arm like a dress up doll. She heard that the prince was very intelligent and gentleman-like, but the American didn't see any genius.

Hannah lay on her bed, thinking.

She was someone who had been so deathly close to being lost, to being alone, in pain. She still was alone and in pain, but not completely lost. She was so close to being just another abandoned genius, another loner…

Hours passed and the American sat there, not wanting to be anywhere else at the moment.

At sunset she sat up, and went to eat something. When she opened the bedroom door, her face nearly crashed into Gaara's. She took an involuntary step back.

The Kazekage wasn't wearing his formal robes. He hung from the ceiling like a creepy phantom from a horror movie, obnoxiously blank face inches from hers.

"I believe 'hello' is the proper way to greet someone," he stated as if having people's faces mere inches from his own and masquerading as hanging light fixtures was a daily incident. Hannah noted his hair defied gravity by staying the exact same. She also noticed how cute he looked upside down. A blush rose to her cheeks.

"What the heck are you doing up there?" she hissed, wondering where Rin, Chika, and Maite were. Rin would have sensed Gaara a mile away.

"Hanging out," Gaara answered.

Hannah couldn't help smiling. "Obviously, but you know that Barbie lives here?"

"Who?"

"Rin."

Gaara seemed more cautious. "We should hurry. Temari wanted me to walk with you because she's bedridden."

"Give me a minute to grab a few things," Hannah said, grabbing a jacket. She used the movement to conceal stuffing her weapons pack into her deep cargo pant pocket. There was the possibility this was her assassin or the spy concealed in a jutsu.

Hannah snatched a cherry lollipop. "I want to give this to Temari before we go on our walk."

"Hn."

They leapt through the window and sauntered to the hospital. Hannah entered Temari's hospital room and explained the situation to Gaara's sister. She invited Gaara to her bedside.

"Gaara, do you remember your teddy bear?"

His cheeks immediately flared and he coughed.

"Why did you say that in front of Hannah?" he demanded.

"She wanted to make sure you weren't a killer," Temari grinned, winking at the American.

Hannah gave a sheepish grin, "Call me paranoid, but I'm not a trusting person."

"Gaara, can you guard the door for a moment and ask for Shikamaru, please?" Temari asked her youngest brother sweetly as she peeled off the plastic wrapping on the red lollipop.

When he left, Temari asked, "Do you want to come here a few afternoons and talk? Maybe I can help you if someone tries to impersonate my brothers or me."

Hannah paused. What the older kunoichi was trying to say was 'do you want to be friends?' The American knew how desperately she needed one other than the too-kind-never-sarcastic Maite. She needed someone she could relate to.

She definitely had become less trusting…All her life, Hannah taught herself and developed hiding in her shell and accustoming to being taciturn.

"Alright," she sighed, feeling a weight on her grow lighter.

Temari smiled. "The last thing Suna needs is another episode of Gaara. You need to interact with other people. The upcoming balls will be good for you."

"But I hate crowds."

"You and my youngest sibling have something in common. You two should talk about that when you get the chance."

"Would he mind?"

"No, he wouldn't care," Temari shrugged.

"Sounds like him," grinned Hannah.

"Don't force yourself to smile if you don't want to."

Hannah felt the pang of an invisible sledge hammer hitting her chest. No wonder the weight had lifted. Temari was dangerously perceptive.

For a moment Hannah revealed her bottled emotions, staring wistfully at something only she could see. "_'Smile. It hides everything_,'" she said aloud, reminded of an Internet quote.

"Why do you feel like that?" Temari asked softly.

"'_I've been alone all along._'" Another Internet citation.

"Why?" So many why's…always the why's…

"'_I've been lost in a world that doesn't want me,_'" Hannah finally confessed, a tear spilling down her cheek. She clenched her fists and bit on her lip. Hard.

With much effort, the American dredged up another larger barrier to hold back the growing depression. One question and she was about to become a cascading waterfall. Hannah considered a good cry was in order shortly.

Before she exploded.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Temari watched Hannah suck everything back in and hold it back with great effort. Only two crystal tears had made their trail on the American's cheeks.

The pregnant kunoichi was impressed with the extent of the American's self control. The girl really had too many emotions plugged for too long. She needed a long cry.

"You can use my room. Go through the window. Two blocks down and the second window of the second story," Temari offered.

Hannah opened her eyes and the blond was shocked. Her eyes were iced over with tears and her irises were a mixture of quicksilver, ash, charcoal, pewter…There was so much pain in those eyes, so much raw emotion Temari felt a little guilty for pressing.

The American nodded and opened the window, carelessly hurtling herself out.

"Gaara…" Temari called.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Hannah barely kept track of where she was going as she flew down the streets, tears blurring her vision. Another part of her was in control.

The American found herself before the building Temari described and under the window. Without hesitation, Hannah dug her fingers into the cracks where the bricks were cemented. She pulled herself up easily, being a natural climber.

Hannah couldn't pry open the window so she smashed it with her fist. The physical pain hurt but the emotional and mental were overwhelming. Ignoring the glass, the American climbed through the window and into the room. There was a large bed near the window.

She grabbed a plump pillow and forced herself to fit under the bed. Hannah hugged the pillow, pressing it into her face and crushing it to her body to muffle her cries which were little less than tortured screams.

'_Teddies don't hug back, but, sometimes they're all you've got_.'

Hannah didn't know how long she stayed wedged under that bed until someone's hand gently brushed against her ankle. The American's foot lashed out at the hand before recoiling closer to her body.

She didn't need someone right now. No, no, no…

'_You think I'm so __**tough**__, but… I just __**never**__ let you see me __**cry**_.'

'_And I don't want the world to see be cause I don't think that they'd understand_.'

The bed lifted and Hannah cringed, holding her breath. It didn't work very efficiently. She was shaking with the hiccups from crying to long, her breathing pattern was sporadic, and her body trembled with sadness.

Hannah stayed curled in a ball even as two strong arms pulled her into a warm chest. She curled tighter. She didn't want to be seen this way…when she was so weak…

"Hold onto me if you want," a gentle, deep masculine voice comforted.

"I-I don't wan-nt you t-t-to s-s-see m-me," Hannah sobbed, refusing to unfurl. "I'm b-b-brok-ken down, t-t-torn u-up, and l-l-lonel-y-y." Her voice wavered so badly each word was broken into several mutant syllables and octaves. Her breathing was about as calm as her speech.

Hannah suddenly threw the pillow across the dark room (it was almost midnight) and clung onto her lifesaver, knocking him over. She cried and cried until she crawled away from the guy to retch in the corner.

She miserably shuffled back to him, wiping her mouth, and leaned into his side, hiccupping. He awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, dragging her closer. Hannah sniffled and allowed her head to tilt into his side under his arm.

Her stomach ached, eyes burned, head throbbed, nothing worked.

He held her mutely as Hannah switched on her iPod and turned up the volume.

"_Prison gates won't open up for me. On these hands and knees I'm crawlin'. Oh, I reach for you. Well I'm terrified of these four walls. These iron bars can't hold my soul in. All I need is you. Come please I'm callin' and oh I scream for you. Hurry, I'm fallin', I'm fallin'…"_

* * *

Disclaimer: don't own _Savin' Me_ by Nickelback, or the depressing Internet quotes

Kuroi- black

Itterasshai- take care


	18. Confessions

Hannah finished her sob fest at dawn, nearly falling asleep. Her life saver was drowsing too. She was comfortable with him. He held and consoled her when she cried, not berating her for being pathetic or judging her.

"What's wrong?" the masculine voice inquired softly.

Hannah kept her mouth shut. The question was a direct violation of her no trusting rule. If he began to understand her, he might hurt her or reject her. She didn't want to take the chance.

"I promise not to tell anyone."

"Promises are taken to be broken," Hannah said in an alien, dry, raspy voice. She cleared her throat several times, wincing at how raw it was.

There was a pause. "Your hair smells nice." The origin of the voice sounded mystified- or disturbed, Hannah couldn't distinguish which.

"It smells like grease," she murmured under her breath, more to herself than him.

"Why don't you take compliments? Why don't you believe them?" the voice demanded.

"It doesn't matter. Really," Hannah said sadly, moving with the intention of escape. He had other ideas, however. He wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her back gently. Then again, the American wasn't really resisting.

"Answer the question- how long have you felt this way?"

"A long time, but I've adjusted. I'm average in every aspect: talents, school, looks…No one has given me a compliment in a long time, so I guess they're joking or being cruel when they do," Hannah answered. "Like I said, it's no big deal."

"_Why_ do you think of yourself that way?" His voice was icy and dangerous. More why's…

"It's the truth. I'm not beautiful nor am I bound to ever become so. It doesn't bother me. I don't care about stuff like that." Why was he getting so riled? This was her opinion of herself.

Hannah felt his body get rigid and his arms tighten. He was ticked- she could tell. "When did you begin to feel this way?" he insisted angrily.

"School. It's not hard to notice when you're leagues behind other girls. In school I was always invisible and really shy. I barely had any friends. But time stole my closest friends away as I got older and the other friends were really laughing behind my back," Hannah's voice had dropped to a raspy whisper.

"I got over it eventually, but the scars are still there. I really thought I'd made friends. Every time I've tried to make friends they've drifted away. Since the beginning of college, I stopped trying. I got the hint- no one was interested." Hannah paused to sigh. "I became invisible again, hiding myself in a geek's shoes. I had long, bushy hair, braces, glasses, and didn't develop any major female body parts until the middle of college. I studied hard and always did what I was told, nothing else. Girls ignored me. Guys only began conversations with 'what's the answer to this problem?' It was major hint. Even now, no one has seen me as anything less than average, depending on who you ask, so why should I waste my time pretending to be anything else? I'm not going to."

Hannah finished the speech with her voice in a light 'matter of fact' tone.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

"No one deserves to go through that," he said, feeling as if he had found a lost kindred spirit.

"And yet I did," she remarked bitterly.

Gaara twisted her body around until she was lying in his arms like a mother cradled her child. Hannah's face paled and flushed. The Kazekage knew she was surprised and unhappy that she had spilled her sour past with him.

"This is an order- listen to everything I say. Do not speak until I am finished," he ordered.

Hannah opened her mouth.

"Or I will expel you from this contest."

Hannah grinned wickedly and began to suck in her breath.

Gaara was slightly caught off guard. The American didn't want to be in this contest? What had she signed up for? "I won't expel you from my contest, but I will marry you," he threatened. The threat was empty, but it generated the correct effect.

Hannah sucked in her breath in one whoosh and bit her bottom lip.

The Kazekage was vaguely insulted, but seized the opportunity to speak. His eyes focused on her body- bottom to top. Naughty Gaara cheered happily as his aqua marine eyes fell on her legs. "You have long, toned legs. Many men would hassle you if you ever wore a skirt or dress."

His eyes roamed to her hips which were invisible under her baggy jacket. "You are to burn that jacket. I never want to see it again," Gaara smirked as Hannah's lips pressed together tightly and her green-grey eyes narrowed. She screamed in her mouth.

The American took off her jacket and crossed her arms. The Kazekage was surprised how full and slender her body was. It took him a minute to recover. "Your hips flare out and your legs slowly curve inward from there like a paint brush. You have hips to hold onto."

Gaara's eyes moved up. "Flat, toned stomach and a waist that bends inward." The Kazekage gave a nod. His eyes momentarily settled on Hannah's chest and he blushed. "Your breasts are alluring as they are. No reassurance is needed there."

Hannah's cheeks burned. She looked like she was going to explode.

"Your shoulders are aligned and strong. The face is the most important part of the body. You have high cheekbones, nice lips, fair skin, and interesting eyes. A kawaii, contagious smile always graces your lips."

Gaara felt his cheeks warming with each description. Why was he saying these things? He had never spoken this much to anyone. He decided not to tell Hannah about his obsession with her chocolate moles or the fact they sprinkled her body.

The Kazekage's tongue itched to play connect the chocolate dots. But he didn't think the American would appreciate the game at all. "Your hair style is unique. The top is auburn yellow and the underside is dark brown. It's feathery, layered, and smells like berries."

Hannah averted her eyes, face bright red with smoke spilling from her ears, and her head tilted down but Gaara caught it. The red head forced her head back up and her green-grey eyes met his. _They are intricately designed up close_, he mused. _The iris is particularly fascinating. _

"Finally, you're slender _and_ curvy. Most women can't pull that off. Men love curves and yours are well balanced. You are definitely not average," Gaara finished in a quiet hush. Perverted Gaara hinted constantly their faces were inches apart, but the Kazekage ignored him.

"Your past sucked, but its over. You are attractive. Don't doubt compliments."

Gaara leaned back, face red.

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

It was difficult for Hannah's jaw not to crash to the floor or break. She was too taken aback to deny his compliments. Gaara actually believed all those things about her. Hannah recalled the day the Kazekage refused to comment about her clothing that night he had spent over during the sandstorm.

There had been a weird expression on his face for a moment as he had stared at her legs. She had thought he was being weird.

The American decided, seeing the red head uncomfortable, to return his compliments. Hannah took a breath, knowing she was going to regret this. She decided to begin describing him from top to bottom, ignoring the perverted feedback from Naughty Hannah.

"Your hair is very catching, making you easy to find in a crowd. Red heads are often artists and deft with their hands," Hannah began. "Your pastel complexion contrasts well with your fiery, soft-looking hair, creating a striking and unforgettable image."

Gaara stared at her as if she had grown another head.

"The black rings bring out the color of your sapphire eyes- another unforgettable feature. The red tattoo on your forehead is" -the American hesitated to use the word- "sexy and attracts attention to your face."

"Your shoulders are strong, broad, and leveled. Your…chest is perfectly fine as are your abs I'm sure," Hannah rushed on, getting flustered. "Your stomach isn't bulging, but flat toned. Your legs are long too, but it compliments your body, giving you the appearance of being stretched and mature."

"You have a great personality, despite you don't speak much. But when you do speak, you don't mumble or spit when you talk; so I encourage you to converse more. You respect those under your authority and watch over them but not possessively," Hannah ranted. "Your soul aged faster than your body due to a traumatic past experience, like my own, and it has given you wisdom beyond your age.

"As for trusting, you and I are on the same level of distrustfulness and need to improve on venturing out of our shells. Neither of us can stay holed up forever, and now I'm going to shut up," Hannah cut off abruptly, not like the expression on the Kazekage's face.

He was staring at her with total disbelief.

The American shivered and grabbed her baggy jacket. She didn't want to throw it away. "I'm not going to throw this teal jacket away because it's fuzzy and has been my companion for years, through sickness, storms, and tests," Hannah declared stoutly.

As she went to pull her arm through the sleeve, she cringed and jerked her arm out. The American bit her bottom lip as she surveyed her torn up, bloody hands. She glimpsed at the rest of her body and picked a few clear shards from her knees and shoes.

Hannah was totally torn up.

"I'll take you to the hospital," Gaara offered, standing and coming up behind her.

"There's no one there," Hannah frowned, recalling hospital hours.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," the Kazekage persisted, ushering the wounded teen toward the door. Hannah was surprised to see how Temari's tomboy side clashed with her girlish, purple, green, and gold room as dawn's dim light illuminated the place.

The two arrived at the front of the hospital and found the doors locked. Gaara merely used a simple transportation jutsu to take them inside. Hannah sat on the counter as the Kazekage uncovered a roll of gauze and ointments.

The American admired the white countertop as the red head gently cleaned the blood from her cuts, applied the stinging poultice, and wrapped her wounds with the gauze.

"Say 'thank you, Gaara,'" the red head smirked.

"Thank you, Kazekage-sama," Hannah said sweetly.

Gaara gave her a look and the American ignored it. She slid off the smooth, sterilized countertop, realizing how much she disliked the color shiroi (white). She limped to the door because her knees were bandaged. Halfway, she turned back with a smirk, "Come over some time and I'll teach you how to make pizza. I'll have Rin taste test it."

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Temari woke up, starving. She was ravenous all the time, craving the strangest food combinations- like ice cream on pork with a meatball on top. Damn, her hellions were hungry.

The kunoichi paused. _Them? There's only one right? _

The blonde checked her stomach size again, staring down at the rotund bulge. After four months she hadn't been able to see her feet. Her fingers probed her belly as if the answers would come like a crystal ball summoning a spirit.

The only reply she got was an excited tingling that she would be a mother very soon.

It was the beginning of her seventh month of pregnancy.

"Does your stomach hurt?"

Shikamaru lifted his head from the side of her uncomfortable hospital bed. He had the cutest, sleepy expression. Temari would have kissed him had her large tummy allowed her to bend that far over without fear of tipping over.

"No, I'm wondering if we're going to have two babies," Temari smiled.

"Troublesome," the cloud-staring Konoha ninja sighed. His hand flopped lazily on her bulge and a finger traced invisible lines. The sensation tickled.

"BABIES ARE NOT TROUBLESOME!" The female sand sibling roared. "THEY ARE CUTE AND ADORABLE!"

Shikamaru decided, for benefits to his health, that he should change the subject. "What do you think about the contest's progress from what I have told you?" he inquired, laying his head down while facing it toward his wife.

"I think Gaara is a bit attached to a few of the girls," Temari mused, instantly calming down, "Especially the American, Hannah. She is a real asset to Suna. And she traveled the farthest out of all the other competitors- the other side of the world."

"Did my brother-in-law have anything to add in the contest?" the lazy Jonin asked.

"Of course," she snorted.

(flashback) "_I have my own terms," the Kazekage spoke up._

_Temari's happy moment shattered. "What about?" she asked dazedly._

_Her youngest brother met her green eyes. "If I fall in love with a contestant during the course of the contest, it shall be cancelled on my say and I shall marry the chosen girl."_

(end flashback) "Hm…" Shikamaru murmured, thinking.

"Please go get me something to eat," Temari begged, tugging at her husband's sleeve. Her voice took on a thoughtful tone. "A stack of chocolate pancakes with broccoli sounds pleasant…SHIKAMARU GO GET IT _NOW_!!! Please?"

P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P

Two beings dressed in complete black appeared before one another. No flesh was revealed or eye color behind their identical yet opposite masks.

"Should my team and I strike again?" Sad mask inquired in a changed voice.

"Yes, frighten house six as a distraction while I terminate those in house fifteen," Angry mask nodded in a sexless accent.

"What about the traitor of the Seven? When shall he be dealt with?" hissed Sadness.

"Soon. Quite soon," assured Anger. " 'Beware the anger of a patient man.' "

* * *

**Author's note:** _I apologize for not updating sooner, but I had a badminton game today. I won Singles and Doubles (yay me!) For anyone interested, the scores:_

_Singles: 11-4, 11-2_

_Doubles: 15-4, 15-2_

Shiroi- white


	19. Desert Flower of America in Suna

This story will be continued in: Desert Flower of America in Suna.

Sorry, but some people don't like reading really long stories. They check how long it is and freak.

This enables me to separate the dedicated and non-dedicated readers.

Gomen nasai and arigatou.


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